When Family Matters
by Northern Goshawk
Summary: All they wanted was peace. But Jesse probably died, the Order refused to save the world, and the rest of the gang were separated. To top it all off, the most severe strain of Withersickness was spreading, infecting people by the thousands. But maybe...maybe there was some light in the dark. The first book of Origins. Inspired by Raintag's All That Remains
1. Prologue

**A/N Alright! So, the plot bunny didn't leave me alone, even after I lost interest ****_The Darkness Within_****. So ta da! You're welcome.**

**This story is more about what if there wasn't a Witherstorm, but an outbreak of Withersickness? (And yes, I drew inspiration from Raintag's fanfic ****_All That Remains._****)**

**And yes, you'll get to see some Formido in this.**

**Enjoy!**

**EDIT: I do not own any of the characters or settings in this story! Everything (except my OCs) belong to Telltale Games - or what's left of it anyways. . .**

* * *

"What's going on?" Jesse yelled over the chaos of EnderCon. People were screaming in panic, all of them running away from the convention. Whatever caused _this_ much mass panic, Jesse mused, couldn't be good.

"I don't know!" Olivia's head was swiveling wildly around, taking in the scene. "Where's Axel?"

Her question was answered when, a moment later, Axel called, "Jesse! Jesse? Where are you?!"

Jesse's head snapped towards the towering male, and he ran over to the burly boy, Olivia in tow. "Axel! Do you have any idea what's going on?"

The burly boy shrugged, seemingly nonchalant, but Jesse could see he was clearly on edge; he continued glancing back over his shoulder, the source of where the people were running from. "Beats me, dude."

Petra skidded to a stop next to them a heartbeat later, her eyes darting around. Sweat covered her forehead. In the light of the torches, her face was a pasty pale color. Her grip was strangling the hilt of her golden sword.

"Petra!" Jesse exclaimed.

"Oh, we're _so_ glad you're okay," Olivia breathed out, her shoulders slumping with relief.

Petra's eyes flashed with relief when they landed on them. "You too."

"And…" Olivia looked over Petra's shoulder, her eyes widening. "Lukas?!"

Jesse followed the curly-haired girl's gaze. Sure enough, there the blond was, his eyes widening at the sight of his rivals. "Hi," he greeted timidly, raising his hand.

Jesse felt one of his eyebrows shoot up, but he shrugged, deciding to worry about it later.

Axel, however, wasn't so keen. "Why is _he_ here?" he demanded Petra, sounding a little more than angry.

Petra shrugged, though Lukas was the one who answered. "Do you have a problem?" he asked, a hint of testiness in his voice.

Axel scoffed. "Yeah I do, you stuck-up, arrogant jerk."

Jesse tuned out their argument because something, or some_one_, had gotten his attention. "Gabriel!"

Leaving his friends, he ran up to the diamond-clad warrior, skidding to a stop in front of him. Gabriel was looking torn between stressed and fear, his grasp tight on the hilt of his diamond sword. "They're here," the dark-skinned warrior breathed out, his eyes wide.

"_Who's_ here?" Petra demanded; Jesse didn't realize until she spoke that she had snuck up behind him.

"How did this happen…?" Gabriel muttered, his eyes darting around, sweat rolling down his face.

"Gabriel." At this point, Jesse's patience had snapped. He grabbed the warrior's arm. Gabriel flinched, but Jesse was past the point of apologizing. "_What is happening?_"

Jesse's stern voice seemed to snap Gabriel out of his fearful daze, summoning back the fierce warrior they all knew. Gabriel looked down at the two teens, his face so serious that Jesse couldn't help but feel a flicker of fear in his chest.

"Wither."

Beside him, Petra sucked in a breath sharply. Jesse glanced at her and then back at the warrior. "Come again?"

It was Petra who spoke, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "Wither, Jesse. Wither sickness."

_That's_ when it hit him. Jesse looked over at the redhead, whose eyes mirrored his own fear. Jesse fought down a surge of panic. _If Petra was _this _scared…_

Nothing much can scare Petra.

Jesse turned back to Gabriel, shoving down the fear. _This feels all too familiar_. "How many people?" he demanded.

Gabriel's eyes had returned to their fearful daze from before, but at Jesse's voice he turned back to him, his eyes sharpening with clarity once more. "Too many." His grip was now strangling the sword as his eyes darkened. "And the Bureau of Quarantine is here," he growled.

"What are they going to do?" Petra demanded.

Gabriel turned back to them, his eyes void of that spark he had once held. "Bomb this town."

Jesse felt horror surge within at his words. He chanced a glance towards Petra, whose face had gone stark-white.

Then Gabriel turned back towards the venue of the keynote. "Get out of here," he hissed, turning back to them. His eyes were dark, indicating that what he was saying was _not_ a joke. "Find the rest of the Order." He pulled out an amulet, the trademark of the Order, and handed it to Jesse. "The future lies in your hands now."

He turned, pointing with his sword towards a giant, intricate temple that was far from the town. "Over there is my temple. The inner chambers are built with obsidian. They _should_ be able to resist the bombing raids. Once there, a Nether portal awaits. Take the railroad tracks, which should lead you to the Order's temple."

"What are _you_ going to do?" Petra countered, her voice hard with a challenge.

Gabriel's grip tightened. "Stay here and do whatever I can."

Jesse suddenly noted, dully, that Axel, Olivia, and Lukas had joined them when Gabriel was telling them about the Bureau of Quarantine and were staring at the warrior with horror.

With a yell, Gabriel charged back into the venue of the keynote.

"What do we do now?" Lukas broke the silence by asking.

"Whoa whoa whoa, you do _not_ get to ask that!" Axel sneered.

Lukas crossed his arms. "Why not?" he asked, hostility in his voice.

Jesse stared at the amulet in his hands, his mind whirling. _Why him?_ He was a nobody, a loser, an outcast. Why him, out of everybody, would Gabriel the (freakin') Warrior tell _him_ to find the Order? He lifted his eyes to look towards the venue, where Gabriel had disappeared. He felt this indescribable _tug_ to go in, to help the people get out.

He also had a _very_ good idea of who was behind this outbreak.

Jesse thrust the amulet into Lukas' hands. The blond started, staring at the suspender-clad teen.

"Take it!" Jesse snapped. "You heard Gabriel. Get out of here, and go through the Nether!" He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out the flint and steel he had earlier, tossing them to Olivia. He turned to Axel. "Take care of Reuben."

"What will you do?" Olivia asked, aghast, as Axel and Lukas were looking as if they thought Jesse had lost his mind.

Jesse drew his sword. "Say hello to an old friend," he growled.

"Jesse," Petra interjected, putting a hand on his shoulder, "_you_ aren't going in there. _I_ am."

Jesse shook the redhead off. "Petra, you know as well as I do that this outbreak isn't normal." His voice sounded oddly dark, even to him. "I need you to protect them-" He waved a sword over at Axel, Olivia, and Lukas, who were staring at him in disbelief. "-as they're running."

Petra stared at him with hard eyes. "And _you_ don't need protection?" she asked sarcastically.

Jesse cast a glance towards the dome. "I know what we're up against," he countered. "If what I suspect is right, then I'm the only one who is able to stand up against him."

With that, he leapt up the stairs, two at a time, ignored his friends' protests, and charged straight into the dome.

Inside, it was havoc. People who Jesse could see were infected were curled up in pain, scrunched in on themselves while those who were not yet infected were running around, not knowing where the exit was.

Jesse hollered over the chaos, "Over here!" and gestured towards the open doors. He was nearly swept off his feet by the stampede. He rushed still further in, running into a black-haired, long-bearded man with sickly-green robes, the one who had scammed Petra out of a diamond

The man started, then scowled. "You again?"

"Sure," he rushed to respond. "Get out of here!"

The man stared at him, an odd expression on his face. Jesse scowled. "Wither sickness outbreak?" A thought suddenly popped in his head, and he glanced over the man. "You're not-?"

The man grunted. "No."

Jesse shoved the man. "Then go! Get out of here!"

Without hesitating, the man turned and fled out the doors.

As he stood, evaluating the situation, Gabriel ran right into him. "Wha-?" The dark-skinned warrior glared at him. "You again! I thought I told you to run!"

"Not happening," Jesse grunted.

Gabriel glanced over Jesse's shoulder, his eyes widening with shock before darkening. Jesse followed his gaze, his stomach plummeting when he realized Petra was behind him.

"You too?" Gabriel growled sharply, a rumble in the back of his throat.

Jesse gave Petra a glare. "I thought I told you to stay with the others!"

"Not happening," Petra shot back, reminding Jesse of his same response when Gabriel had told him to run.

"Well, are they safe?" Jesse asked, just to be sure.

Petra nodded, her body tense as she scanned the area. "They left."

All the hair on Jesse's arms suddenly stood on end. At the same time, a rumbling in the dome seemed to indicate…

Gabriel raised his head, his eyes widening forebodingly. "GET DOWN!"

Jesse, on impulse, charged into Petra, pushing her out of the dome. Petra stared back at him, her face written with shock. "Jesse-"

She was cut off with an explosion that sounded from the roof. Rubble piled in front of the exit, blocking her from Jesse's view. He hoped with all his heart that she wasn't crushed by the rubble, that Axel, Olivia, Reuben, and even Lukas made it to the temple safely.

Dust swirled around as the roof caved in, plunging them into darkness. Jesse ducked, covering his head as he waited for something to fall on him, kill him.

Even though he could feel wood dust sprinkle lightly onto him, nothing slammed onto him anywhere, apart from a particular sharp edge of a wooden plank plunging into his arm. He gritted his teeth and rose from the debris. He rummaged through his inventory.

The bright light of a torch shone from his hand as he took in the scene before him. The roof had caved in, revealing the light of the moon shining down on them.

He looked over, and the glint of diamond met his eyes, the rest buried under a pile of stone and wood. "Gabriel?!" He ran over.

As he heaved loads of stone and wood off of the warrior, he was chanting, "Please don't be dead, please don't be dead, please don't-"

A feeble cough greeted him. Jesse's eyes scanned the pile, locking onto Gabriel's. His eyes were wide with pain, a trickle of blood running down the corner of his mouth. "J-Jesse," he wheezed.

Jesse began digging the warrior up with renewed vigor. With a last heave, he threw aside the giant stone slab that was crushing Gabriel's torso.

What he saw nearly made him throw up. His armor was _coated_ with blood, all of them seeping from under the warrior's body.

Jesse stared at Gabriel. "Gabriel…"

Gabriel grimaced. "Jesse," he gasped out. His hand shot out and snatched Jesse's arm, his grip surprisingly strong, and pulled, forcing the brunet to lean in.

"Listen carefully, since I don't-" Gabriel winced, his breathing coming in fast and shallow. "-don't have much time. You _must_ find the rest of the Order. Ivor… Ivor can find a cure."

"Ivor?" Jesse asked, confused. "Who's Ivor?"

"You will know," Gabriel wheezed. His eyes began glazing over, his tight grip relaxing. One breath. Two breaths.

"You can't go!" Jesse cried.

Gabriel looked at Jesse with sad, dark eyes. "I'm…sorry." He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Three breaths. Four breaths.

Nothing.

Jesse suddenly realized he had stood and was making his way over to the blocked exit. His world was imploding around him, the world darkening until there was nothing left, not even the stars that dot the sky.

_Gabriel's dead._

"As will you be," another voice, gravelly, echo-y, and dark resounded, sounding behind the male. Jesse yelped and whirled around, coming face-to-face with glowing white eyes.

"Brine," Jesse snarled, drawing his sword.

"_Hero_brine," Brine corrected.

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Not much of a hero if you ask me."

Br-er, _Herobrine_'s eyes glowed menacingly in the dark. "Not much has changed, has it, _Formido?_"

Now Jesse flinched. "I don't go by that name anymore," he shot back, trying to hide his emotions behind a dam.

"No?" Herobrine drawled. "How disappointing."

"What do you want?"

Herobrine recoiled from Jesse's growl. "Me?" he asked, innocently putting his hands over his heart. "What makes you think that I want something?"

"You're the one who started this outbreak," Jesse accused.

Herobrine, much to Jesse's suspicion, didn't protest. "Yes, that I did."

"Why?"

"Why?" Herobrine's eyes glowed brighter. He stepped towards Jesse. "_Why?_"

Another step. "So that _you_ will suffer the same as I did."

Another step. "It wouldn't be enough to just destroy you."

Another. Herobrine's eyes glowed brighter than ever with dark rage. "I want you to suffer slowly while watching your entire world die."

Another step, putting Herobrine right in front of him. "Starting."

He yanked Jesse's right arm, the one with the cut, outwards. The shock of pain nearly made Jesse pass out. A whimper bubbled from his throat, but Jesse pressed his lips against it. _Why does it hurt so much?_

"With."

The white-eyed man yanked Jesse's sleeve up.

"You."

Jesse stared. In the moonlight, his blood gleamed a dark purplish color. The veins in his skin were purple, extending outward from the cut. Even in the silver light, he could see his skin was a pasty-pale.

_I'm infected._

Jesse yanked his arm away, brandishing his sword. "It doesn't matter," Jesse snarled. "I'll end what you started right here, right now!"

Herobrine tilted his head. "Careful, Jesse. _I'm_ not the enemy here."

Jesse paused, staring at him with confusion. Rage bubbled within him when he tilted his head up and saw the planes of the Bureau of Quarantine flying overhead. "Why you little-"

Herobrine grinned, his eyes taunting. "Have fun, Formido."

All instincts screamed at Jesse to _move!_ Jesse cast his glance up and saw a TNT heading straight towards him. He should've moved, should've done something, _anything_, but all he did was stare, transfixed in horror, as his death literally fell towards him.

He didn't have enough time to even scream when darkness swamped him like a tidal wave, snuffing out the moonlight and the stars.

Only Herobrine's eyes remained alight.


	2. Nightmares

Petra lurched upwards, a screech tearing at her throat. She gasped, heaving for breath as sweat beaded on her forehead.

Reuben started with a squeal, which barely registered in her mind.

The image of her nightmare flashed back into her head.

_People screaming, chaos reigned. Petra whipped her head around. There they were: Jesse, Axel, Olivia, and Reuben, all looking very confused._

_She turned back towards Lukas, grabbing his hand. "C'mon!"_

_They both ran towards the group. Jesse turned towards her, his eyes lighting up with relief. "Petra!"_

"_You're okay," Olivia gasped out, slumping._

_Then Jesse stood, his eyes flashing oddly as he cast a glance towards the convention center. "Something's wrong."_

"_Jesse…?"_

_He drew his sword, ready to charge up to the dome. "Stay here!" he growled, his voice unnaturally hard._

"_No!" Petra grabbed his arm. "No, you'll die!"_

_Jesse glanced back at her, his eyes dark with pain. That's when Petra noticed the purple veins under his skin, visible against his unnatural paleness._

"_I'm already dying," he countered, roughly snatching his arm away from her. "Might as well go out hard." He turned and ran._

_Panic welled in her chest. "No!" She scrambled after him. Looking up, she noticed that a giant TNT block had dropped from the plane._

"JESSE-!"

_The TNT exploded._

Petra felt a wetness on her cheek. She swiped a hand against the tears, cursing to herself. _It didn't actually happen, you're fine…_

The creak of a wooden door signified Ivor's presence. She looked up to see the potionist staring at her as if she had screamed something stupid in public. "What are you doing?"

Petra returned his stare with an icy glare. "What's it to you?"

"Well, you're screaming," Ivor commented gruffly. "No one could sleep with the racket you're making."

Petra turned away. "Nightmare," she offered curtly.

"Ah." A pause from the potionist. Then: "Of what?"

"Seeing my best friend blow up," Petra snarled, turning a glare back onto him. "What kind of nightmare would you _think_ I have? Rainbows and unicorns attacking me?"

Ivor turned away. She swore she heard him mutter, "I had a nightmare like that once."

"Ugh!" Petra leapt out of bed and stormed past the potionist. She didn't know where she _wanted_ to go, only that she had to get away from the stuffiness of her makeshift bedroom.

Her feet carried her through well-explored tunnels, following the worn main path that found her staring down on the vast landscape of the world. The cool night breeze felt good against her sweat-stained arms and face.

Here, she could just… sit. And think. Think about the last few months' events.

* * *

Petra was forced to run when the second wave of bombers had flown overhead, depositing a huge load of TNT on the venue. She had turned, forcing herself to _not look back_.

Right before she dove into the temple, she chanced a glance back towards the convention.

Any hope that had sprung up in her chest was immediately crushed. EnderCon was _completely_, utterly decimated. Even _if_ Jesse had managed to get out of the dome, he would've been caught in the literal fire that rained down on the town.

With a heavy heart, she managed to make it to the Order's Temple with nothing worse than a scratch. She couldn't even recall how she managed to fight off the Nether mobs; all she could recall was a numbness, void except for rage and grief.

She could still recall the horrible hopefulness in her friends' eyes as they awaited news about Jesse, only to be crushed to grief.

"_Petra!" Lukas greeted him, eyes wide and mouth turned upwards. He rushed down from his perch._

_All she felt was some kind of numbness. She didn't even smile when Lukas flung the gates open, engulfing her in a huge hug._

"_Petra!" She looked up to see Olivia and Axel coming towards her, their eyes lit up._

_As soon as Lukas released her, she cast her eyes down. She couldn't bear to make eye contact with them._

"_Petra? Is something wrong?" Lukas' voice indicated his smile had faltered._

_Suddenly, Olivia let out a gasp. "Is…is Jesse with you?"_

_The four most dreaded words that Petra was anticipating: _Is Jesse with you?_ She glanced up at them miserably, feeling the guilt and shame weigh her down._

_Her expression was enough. Olivia's face crumbled, the spark in her eyes dying. "No." The redstone engineer began shaking, tears pooling in her eyes. "Oh Notch, no!" She suddenly dropped to her knees, as if a puppet master had cut the strings, burying her face into her hands and sobbing._

_Axel was staring at Petra with a dazed look in his eyes. "You're… you're joking." His face twisted angrily. "You're _JOKING!"

"_Does it _look _like I'm joking?!" Petra snapped back, anger overtaking her. She knew she was being irrational, that she wasn't being fair to them, but Jesse was her friend too._

Had _been her friend._

_Axel stared at her a moment longer. Then he turned and punched into the wall, howling with rage and grief._

_Lukas was watching the entire scene with sad eyes, but Petra knew he wasn't as affected by Jesse's death as they are. He wound an arm around Petra's shoulder and gently led her back into the temple. "C'mon," he said, surprisingly gently. "We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."_

* * *

The tears long dried, Petra continued to stare out onto the landscape. She felt the presence of Ivor behind her, but he said nothing. Neither did she, not that she felt like it. She continued to play with the edge of her sleeve, the memories still swirling in her head.

* * *

Lukas had suggested going out to find Magnus the Rogue, much to Axel's delight. A couple of ghasts and about a hundred troublesome griefers later, they find the bald man. Much to Petra's, Lukas', and Olivia's frustration, Magnus refused to try and find a way to stop the entire mess, claiming that that was "_the course of nature,"_ and that was "_beyond his expertise."_

He, however, invited Axel to become his…apprentice(?), and, much to Olivia's dismay, her own anger, and Lukas' disbelief, the burly boy accepted.

Petra can still remember her confrontation with the boy:

"_So what? You're just gonna _leave _us?" Petra demanded angrily. "Leave us with an entire world that's dying by the thousands?"_

"_Hey," Axel defended, "I'm not cut out for this 'hero' stuff. I like explosions and stuff."_

_Rage darkened Petra's vision, until all she could see was the boy and how… how _selfish _he was. "What would _Jesse _say if he was here?"_

_Axel recoiled, as if she'd burned him with flint and steel. His eyes widened in shock before he narrowed his eyes angrily. "Maybe he would _want _me to be happy," he spat out, turning away. As he followed Magnus, he growled, "But we may never know."_

* * *

Next, they went to Ellegaard's island of inventions. When they sought out Ellegaard, the engineer had refused to come along with them, but she'd shown them inventions that could help quarantine people in a…nicer way than the Bureau had.

The engineer had invited Olivia to be her protege in figuring out a solution, and Olivia had accepted. Petra had (begrudgingly) accepted her decision.

"_I'm sorry, guys," Olivia had said. In Olivia's eyes, Petra saw that the curly-haired girl was truly remorseful for leaving them. "But…but I have to do this." She glanced away, her eyes unfocusing. "For Jesse, if…if nothing else."_

_Petra sighed, putting a hand on the protege's shoulder as a way to show she wasn't mad. "I understand, I guess."_

_Olivia had taken the redhead's hand and squeezed it, smiling tearfully. "Maybe when you see me next…I've helped safely quarantine people."_

_Petra offered a tense smile. "Maybe then, we'll see each other again."_

"_Good luck," Lukas offered, smiling a little sadly._

_Olivia turned to him. As they had traveled, Petra noticed that Olivia was no longer hostile towards the blond. "You too."_

* * *

After they had dropped Olivia off, they set out to find Soren when they ran into…guess who! Ivor!

The potionist had complained and grumbled, but he had tagged along with them to find Soren. When they found the ginger, after going through lots and _lots_ of Endermen, after all they've faced…the architect had refused to help them.

_Soren scowled. "Why should I help them?" He turned away from the two teens and the potionist. "Especially since you have _him _with you?" he growled, jerking his finger towards Ivor._

_Lukas' eyebrow went up. "I sense some history here."_

"_Oh no, you think?" Petra snarked, rolling her eyes._

"_Why should I _ever _help you, since the entire Order abandoned me?" Soren asked bitterly._

_Petra shouldered her way forward, her patience snapping. "This isn't about the Order abandoning you," she snapped. "Wither sickness is spreading and killing thousands of people, so unless you can put aside your stupid grudge-"_

_Soren turned on her, his eyes flashing angrily. "_Grudge?!" _He slammed a fist into the wood. "People used me! They never really cared about me; all they wanted was my stuff!" He glared at them. "Same as you guys right now! So forget it." He turned away, huffing._

_Petra growled angrily, but Ivor shot her a look. "Leave him," he said, his voice a low growl. He glanced back at the ginger, his eyes flashing with some undecipherable emotion. "That's more than he deserves."_

_Before Petra could respond, Soren turned back to them, his face intrigued. "Well…" He stroked his beard. "I may consider it… if the blond stays with me."_

"_What?" Lukas' eyes stretched wide._

_Soren shrugged. "It gets lonely without another agreeable person to talk to. And you're more… agreeable than those two." At this, he pointed at Petra and Ivor._

_She was already positioning herself in front of him. "No way," she growled. "Not happening!"_

"_Petra." She felt Lukas' hand on her shoulder and turned to meet his solemn gaze. "If it helps find a way to help people…" He glanced away._

_Panic welled in her chest as she stared at the blond. "Not you too," she whispered, dismay clawing up her throat._

_Lukas careful palmed her the amulet, giving her a sad smile. "I'm sorry." He turned and walked towards the ginger, who clapped his hands excitedly._

"_Splendid!" the architect exclaimed, looping an arm around Lukas' shoulders and steering him away. Lukas cast one glance back at the trio-turned-duo before they disappeared into the darkness._

* * *

"I have some news I've gathered yesterday." Ivor now spoke. Petra, not wanting to reminisce longer, shoved the rest of the memories down and leaned in to listen.

"Is it a cure?" she asked hopefully. Much to her dismay, Ivor shook his head.

"But…"

Petra perked up. Whenever someone used that word in the face of bad news, it always meant something.

Hope.

"There is a village nearby, one that I had _just_ found." Ivor thumbed a map, looking intrigued. "It's rumored that the doctor there, he knows how to cure, or at least slow, down the sickness."

Petra exhaled, knowing what it meant. "Road trip?"

"Road trip."

Petra nodded, turning back to the landscape. "I'll pack as soon as dawn breaks."

She sensed that Ivor wanted to say more, but instead his footsteps receded back into their stony shelter, his boots echoing in the hollowness.

She breathed out, staring up at the star-dotted sky. _First Jesse, then Axel and Olivia and Lukas…_ She had never thought of it before, but Jesse was the glue, the leader that everyone needed and turned to whenever trouble struck. He was the one who held his friends together.

Without him, there was nothing left to stop the inevitable tearing of friendships, the distancing of relationships.

Petra felt a small tear make its way down her cheek, but she didn't bother wiping it away. She continued looking up at the stars, not being able to stop herself from wondering, _Is he looking over us right now?_

She didn't believe in an afterlife before, but now that she had seen one of her closest friends killed, she hoped there was. She hoped he was happy, wherever he was.

Petra sighed, turning away and trudging slowly back to her room. She wasn't sure she should attempt to sleep again, with her memories swirling around in every corner of her mind.

After all, nightmares don't have to be dreams.

* * *

**A/N Whew! Sorry that was such a long chapter; I wanted it to be a filler for Petra's POV, y'know?**

**I hope you enjoyed this little tidbit; also hope I kept the characters in-character; _really_ hope I didn't bore you...**

**There was more I wanted to add, but I decided to cut it short.**


	3. Journeys

"Well." Ivor scowled at his map, shaking it out.

"Lost?" Petra snarked, smiling amusedly to herself.

"No! Of course not!" Ivor snapped, still not turning around to face her. He seemed to falter for a second before steeling himself again. "Just…need to get…our bearings…stupid map…"

Petra withheld a snort of amusement. Beside her, Reuben, on the other hand, had no qualms. It actually sounded like he was _laughing_ at the potionist.

Ivor turned a withering glare onto the pig. "Oh, shut it, you," he grumbled, turning back to the map.

Petra estimated that they've been walking for about an hour now. The journey was pretty uneventful in general, apart from a few stray zombies that were stupid enough to walk out of the shade into the sunlight to catch them.

She made sure to put them out of their misery quickly.

Petra sighed. Ivor had said that the trek should've been about an hour and a half north, towards the village.

Annnd… she squinted towards the horizon. Nope. Not a single trace of a village.

Frustration bubbled up in her chest. After five months of sitting around in a cave, searching endlessly, they _finally_ have a lead to help cure the sickness, and yet Ivor couldn't even _find_ the stupid village, if his continuous fussing over the map was any indication.

"We're lost, aren't we?" Petra stopped, crossing her arms.

Ivor stopped at her words, turning and giving her an exasperated glare. "We are not lost!" he shot back.

Petra rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "We're in the middle of practically _nowhere_, with no buildings in sight, a map that you continuously turn which-way around, and a sun which is peaking over us right now." She paused as a thought suddenly occurred to her. "Do you even know _how_ to read a map?"

Ivor scowled at her but said nothing.

Petra glared at him, emotions churning within her. She was pretty sure 90% of it was exasperation, 5% was disbelief, and the last 5% was amusement.

Yeah, that was kinda detailed.

She answered her own question with a, "You don't."

"Are you doubting my ability to read a map?" Ivor challenged. "I can brew almost any complicated potion!"

Petra tilted her head, completely confused at the sudden change of subject. "What does that have to do with reading a map?"

"I believe I am _very_ capable of reading a simple map," Ivor snapped back, turning back to the piece of paper.

Petra had finally had enough of his pride and snatched the paper out of his hands, eliciting a "Hey!" from Ivor.

The first thing she noticed was that the map was turned on its side, with the _East_ part pointed up. She noticed that the markers that showed where they were was pointing towards said direction. That was enough to tell Petra all she needed to know. _That idiot!_

She glared daggers at Ivor and shoved the map back into his hands. "You've been leading us east!" she hissed.

Ivor rolled his eyes. "Oh, and I suppose you know this how?"

Petra jabbed a finger at their marker and then at the compass on the map. Much to her triumph, Ivor's sneer melted, followed by a look of _oh-shoot-I-messed-up_.

Her triumph vanished, however, when she realized that if they'd been going for one hour east, then it'll take an hour to retrace their steps back to the cave. Not to mention how long it would take them to get back to the village.

Petra growled, face-palming. "It's gonna take us an additional two-and-a-half hours to get to the village!" She leered at the potionist. "Are you actually KIDDING me?!"

"Hey," Ivor snapped, "not all of us are survival experts, or people who jump into the Nether just for the _fun_ of it!"

Petra glared at him, mustering as much anger as she could in her scowl before turning tail. "C'mon!" she snarled.

* * *

It was sundown by the time they finally, _finally_ made it to the village. As soon as it was in the distance, Ivor had let out a loud shout of triumph and rushed ahead, leaving Petra and Reuben to trail behind.

Petra stayed on guard, checking her surroundings before trudging after the potionist. Even then, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching her every move.

"Hello! Hello!" Ivor greeted, uncharacteristically-and disturbingly-cheerful, once they reached the village.

Far from being friendly, Petra noted, the townspeople were looking rather nervous, pointing at them and whispering. Some of them cast suspicious glances at them, others outright glaring at them.

One person, a grizzled, bearded man with a dark blue tanktop and a dead eye, approached, staring at them with a hard expression. "No outsiders allowed," he said gruffly, though Petra could see in his eyes that he was tired.

_Tired of what?_ Of telling outsiders off? Or something else? Petra squinted at the adventurer, trying to gauge his expression. Before she could decipher anything, a villager stormed up behind the adventurer, jabbing a finger at them. "You heard Jack," he snarled. "Get out of here!"

Ivor lifted an eyebrow. "Oh? Why's that?" Though his voice was smooth, Petra could tell there was a challenge in it.

Instead of answering back, the villager turned to Jack, his expression of hostility bordering on fear. "We can't let them in," he hissed to the man, his eyes flashing with fright. "You saw what happened when we let in one of those… those Infecteds. How do we know they aren't-"

"Are you talking about people who have Wither?" Petra interrupted, crossing her arms. "Because, I assure you, we're not infected."

The villager shot her a suspicious glare. "Don't play mind games on me," he snarled. "How do we know you're not here to trick us?"

Ivor frowned, his pleasant mood forgotten. "Why do you think we would trick you?" he asked condescendingly. "What, are people dying by the thousands not a good enough reason to help each other?"

Jack stared at the bearded man, his eyes wide with realization. Behind him, the villagers were murmuring among themselves, as if coming to a revelation. "You don't know, do you?" he finally asked, his eyes darting between Petra and the man.

"Don't know?" Now Ivor's face twisted in confusion. "Don't know _what?_"

"If that's true…" Jack fiddled with his sword, looking uncertain. Then, eyes hardening, he turned to the villager next to him. "Get them inside," he barked.

The villager looked shocked. "Wha-but… _Jack!_"

Jack's eyes narrowed, and he hissed, "_No_ one can fake not knowing what the Withereds are, not unless they've been living under a rock-"

"Which we _technically_ have," Ivor chimed in. Jack stared at the man, looking lost. Honestly, Petra couldn't blame him.

"Cave," Petra offered by way of explanation, shooting a look at Ivor that was trying to convey the message _not helpful._

Jack nodded. "Same thing." He turned to the villager, his eyes sharpening into a glare. "We've wasted too much time outside. They aren't safe here, not as long as _they're_ still out there."

A moan pierced the air, haunted and dark at the same time. Petra felt her stomach twist unwillingly, turning to the adventurer. _Too sharp to be a zombie,_ Petra quickly analyzed. "What was that?"

Beside her, Jack was looking straight-on, his hand drifting to the hilt of his sword. His face was oddly blank, except for the flash of terror that crossed in his eyes. Another sharp moan, louder this time, rang through the air. Petra turned, following Jack's gaze into the darkness. She swore she saw a flash of glowing purple before it disappeared.

"Get inside." Jack's voice was barely a whisper.

The villager turned, glaring at her and Ivor. "But-"

"_Get inside!_" A roar almost drowned out Jack's command as something dark came hurtling out of the shadows. Before Petra could react, Jack's sword came flying out of its sheath, hitting something with a sickening squelch, followed by a shriek of pain as the thing flopped to the ground. Something splattered on the ground, nearly hitting Petra.

Petra stared at the unmoving thing, horror churning her stomach. She had seen enough to be able to repress her gag reflex, but that thing… She turned, gagging. Beside her, Ivor had turned about twenty shades paler than he normally was. Reuben was whimpering, pressed up against her leg.

Jack turned towards them, face grim. Bits of purple ooze clung to his shirt. Petra's gagging, interestingly enough, turned into dry-heaving.

But there was no time to contemplate the situation, for unearthly shrieks and howls suddenly filled the air. Petra couldn't help but clamp her hands over her ears, gritting her teeth as the noise pierced her eardrums even through the enforcement of her hands.

Over the havoc, Jack bellowed, "EVERYBODY INSIDE! _NOW!_"

In her daze, Petra didn't realize until later that someone had ushered her in, practically shoving her through the gates and into the town.

Jack appeared next to her, his good eye practically on _fire_ as he strangled the hilt of his sword. "Nurm-" He turned to a villager (by villager, Petra meant a _villager_ villager). "-get these two inside _now_."

Petra found herself suddenly being dragged by the villager. She distantly noted the screams in the background, the moaning, Ivor being dragged alongside her and Reuben (since when did he get there?) darting between the trio.

She couldn't bring herself to care in the moment.

Because the _thing_ that Jack had sliced through…she had gotten a good look at it.

Its face had been blackened, shriveling as if drying out. Where there once were eyes were now reduced to black sockets with glowing pink irises, no pupil. A disgusting ooze of glowing pink liquid had flowed out of its chest wound, pooling around the body, losing its glow as the body slowly died.

_Dead._

Petra swallowed against the bile threatening to rise in her esophagus as the image flashed into her mind again.

That thing…had been a human.

* * *

**A/N Dun dun duuuun! Now _there__'s_ some gore (possibly maybe?)**

**...I'm not very good at writing about gore, am I?**

**Ah well. Kinda prefer for it to be this way.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Not even three chapters in and already so much has happened! (Guess that's what happens when you're in the apocalypse.)**

**I _really_ hope that I'm not writing too much for one chapter, but who knows?**

**See ya next week, and God Bless!**


	4. Combat (Cures)

It wasn't until Petra found herself in front of a house when she finally realized: _Oh. There's an attack going on._

So, amidst a torrent of scolding and yells from Nurm and Ivor, she managed to wriggle out of the villager's (surprisingly) strong grip and sprinted, ignoring Ivor's shouts and Nurm's stressed-sounding gibberish.

She paused in the streets, swiveling her head and surveying the scene. Even though the gates had closed, some of the fully-transformed humans-_no,_ zombies-had managed to slip in and were running around, terrorizing the people.

One particular zombie was coming too close towards a young girl, who must've been separated by her parents. Her look of fright, her eyes filled with terror, suddenly reminded Petra too much of someone she'd had to save from the monsters. Back when the last EnderCon had begun, yet he was out searching for Reuben.

Back when _Jesse_ was alive.

A fury suddenly overtook her, and she charged, yelling a battle-cry. She wasn't going to let anyone else die. Not tonight.

The withered zombie paused, turning towards the redhead just as she slashed down. A shriek erupted from the monster as it collapsed like a sack of potatoes, an ugly slash marring its already-hideous face. Glowing purple blood (she wasn't sure if it _was_ blood; she just assumed) spurted from the gaping wound, unfortunately on her clothes.

After a horrible spasm and a gurgling cry, the creature fell silent and went limp, its glowing irises fading. Petra turned to the girl, who was still quaking in fear, her eyes still locked on the creature. When the redhead took a step, the young girl flinched from the sudden movement.

Her reaction suddenly reminded Petra of _herself._ When she was in the woods, alone, afraid, her dad uncaring of her.

Petra swallowed hard, shoving down the memory. Sh knelt in front of the girl, whose eyes flashed with relief once she saw that Petra was a human, not… one of _them_.

"Hey," Petra offered softly. Upon hearing her voice, the girl visibly relaxed, though her eyes darted around, as if checking for other zombies. Sadness flashed within Petra's chest. _This girl is too young to be living in fear like…like this._ She smiled hesitantly at the young girl. "Where are your parents?"

"I-I don't know," the girl replied, albeit timidly. Petra forced her voice to soften and lighten up.

"Let's go find them," Petra offered. With the words, the girl's tension vanished entirely. She smiled; the first genuine smile Petra had seen in a long while. She reached out, accepting Petra's outstretched hand.

The gesture of unhesitating trust stirred a vague memory in her, but before Petra could ponder it, the girl's eyes wandered over Petra's shoulder. Then her smile dropped, her face going ten shades paler.

Petra followed the girl's gaze, glancing over her shoulder. Her stomach dropped when she realized _why_ the girl was currently bug-eyed with terror.

A withered zombie was charging towards them.

On instinct, Petra shoved the girl just as the zombie fell on her, teeth gnashing and limbs flailing, trying to pummel her. The force of its charge knocked the girl onto her back. The zombie keeled over her, baring its teeth.

Petra barely kept it a bay with her left forearm pressed up against its throat. Her sword, which had been knocked from her grip, was just out of her reach.

She locked eyes with the young girl, who was staring at the scene, her jaw gaping wide in absolute _horror._ Petra yelled out, "Go! Get outta here!"

Without being told a second time, the girl turned and fled.

Petra reached out blindly, straining to grasp something, _anything_, to get out of the situation she found herself in.

Just as she grasped something wooden that rang with a heavy _clang_ (she hoped it was her sword), the zombie lashed out, scoring its nails in her left arm. Searing pain flared in her limb, but she gritted her teeth and shoved it down. With a mighty swing, she hit something soft. A resounding shriek from the creature indicated she hit him. After a flailing spasm, it went limp. Something warm seeped onto Petra's shirt, and she knew without doubt that it was blood.

She heaved the body off of her, rolling out from under it. In the split second she lurched to her feet, Jack was right next to her, his eyes fixed darkly on hers.

"I thought I told you to stay inside!" he hissed. Petra noticed a zombie was charging towards his back. Before she could say anything, the man flipped his sword and flung his arm backwards, stabbing it.

"Well, what made you think I was going to _stay inside_ when there is _an attack_ happening _right now?_" Petra hissed back, jabbing at a zombie. The undead body fell under her blade with a gurgling cry. A twinge of pain flared in her right arm, where the cut was, but she ignored it.

In the moment's respite, the two faced off against each other, Jack's heated glare meeting head-on with Petra's unimpressed look. She struggled to keep her face nonchalant, what with his glare and the steadily-growing pain in her (_why does it hurt so much?_) arm.

If anything, Jack's expression softened, if only slightly. "I… thank you," he muttered awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. It was easy for Petra to tell that he was practically _forcing_ the words out of his mouth. "If it weren't for you…"

"Petra!"

The redhead turned, spotting Ivor running towards her, Reuben trailing after the potionist. Petra must've imagined the flash of relief that passed through his eyes since he approached her with a withering glare that made Petra glad, for once, that looks couldn't kill.

"Is the rest of the town safe?" Jack asked the potionist brusquely.

Ivor nodded. "I've been running around, handing out healing potions." His face darkened into a scowl. "I swear you guys are out to deplete my supplies."

Jack glanced away distractedly, fiddling with his sword. "Good."

Petra hummed, a flash of surprise going through her. "Didn't know you cared so much about _people,_ Ivor," she remarked, letting a smirk creep onto her face.

Ivor scowled at her. "Just because I don't like _you_ doesn't mean I won't help others that are _unlike_ you," he snapped.

Petra suddenly felt the ground tilt under her feet. She staggered sideways. "Um, could you get me one of those potions?" she tried to ask. It came out slurred and slowed, the entire world spinning around her. _What is wrong with me?_ She slammed into somebody, whose firm hands grabbed her by the shoulders.

Distantly, she heard someone-probably Jack-ask, "Whoa, what's wrong with _you?_"

_I wish I knew._

"What's going on with her?" someone else demanded. Ivor, maybe?

Someone hummed in the background. Jack's voice raised in what sounded like panic, but Petra couldn't be sure; it was as if someone had stuffed cotton in her ears. "Check her for injuries!"

Immediately, something prodded her in her gash. Petra clenched her teeth together to keep from crying out; it felt as if someone had thrust a red-hot iron on it. She thought she heard Jack curse then say, "She's been scratched! Get a potion _now!_"

But all the noise faded away, darkness clouding her vision. The last thing she saw before her eyes slid shut was Jack's look of pure panic and Ivor's of worry.

* * *

Darkness surrounded her. She didn't know what was up, down, left, or right anymore, except for the seemingly-solid floor. She looked around warily; she didn't know where she was, but that didn't mean she wouldn't prepare for the worst.

Then the darkness receded, revealing the back of a boy that was faced towards her. His mocha-colored hair stirred a memory within her, but the rest of his outfit was foreign. He wore a chestplate that had a patterning of purple on it. His left arm covered in armored sleeves, but his right arm had something that glinted metal in the non-existing light.

"Hello?" Petra called out, stepping towards the boy. The brunet started, as if realizing someone was behind him. He slowly turned, the right side of his face visible in the light.

"Are you-" Petra cut herself off with a gasp. The right side of his face, the one visible to her, was completely black. Where his eye was was a mere black socket with a glowing purple iris. It reminded her of the withered zombies, except their irises were pink.

"What are you?" Petra near-whispered, barely able to breathe at the uncanny resemblance to the withered zombies.

The darkness started shrouding the boy, yet he kept his eyes on her, a vague expression, one of confusion and something else, flitting on his face.

"Wait!" Petra called out, reaching her hand out towards the fading boy. "Don't leave!"

But it was too late. As he became a mere silhouette, the only thing she could see of the boy was his glowing iris, shining dimly in the darkness, and even that began to fade from view.

As darkness snuffed out the last of the light, someone's voice whispered in her ear:

_Sometimes the people you want to see are one step from you, yet feel a world away._

* * *

Petra lurched upwards, a gasp filling her lungs with air. Jack was sitting next to her, jumping slightly at her sudden movement. Relief shone in his eyes. "Oh, good. You're awake."

"What…?" Petra was bewildered. Why was Jack looking as if she had defied death? Then it hit her again. The attack. Her wound.

"The attack-!" Petra began to rise, only for Jack to push her back into the bed.

"Whoa, easy there, champ. The attack had passed last night. We had killed the last few stragglers before your… uh…"

"Oh." Petra wasn't sure if she felt relieved or anxious. As if sensing her unease, Jack smiled grimly.

"No one was killed in the attacks. Though you…you came pretty close."

"Oh." Petra relaxed, fiddling with the bandage that was wrapped around her right forearm. "That's…that's good, I guess." A thought suddenly struck Petra. She turned to him. "Wait, if I was scratched…does that mean…" She struggled to process her thoughts aloud. If it were true, then it wouldn't have mattered if Jack had saved her; her days would've been numbered anyways.

Jack seemed to understand what she was trying to ask. His mouth twisted into a grim smile again. "Well, you _did_."

Petra frowned, lifting her arm. "It's either I do or I don't. There's no way you can cure _Wither_."

Jack shifted. "It was only a scratch," he explained. "If it were a bite, then yeah, you would have a more severe case. But because it was minor, we were able to stop it before it got worse."

She frowned. There was no known cure for Wither, yet this stranger, essentially, was claiming that they cured _her_ sickness. "How…?"

The door in her room opened. She turned, not knowing who to expect. Maybe Ivor?

And Ivor it was. But a new person, someone who Petra's never seen before, appeared. She felt her eyes stretch wide as she took in the sight.

The newcomer had black, close-cropped hair. He wore a doctor-looking coat, complete with a stethoscope and dark gray pants. Under the coat, he wore a black shirt.

But that wasn't what shocked Petra.

The left side of his face was completely black, which faded to regular skin on the right side of his face. His iris was glowing the same purple she saw in the dream-stranger's right eye, but the "whites" of his eyes were a brilliant pink, making it look as if it was an Enderman's eye.

She stared for a good five seconds, trying to process what she was seeing.

Then: "What in the _Nether_ is _that?!_"

* * *

The boy frowned, blinking, before he rubbed the back of his head. He cocked his head, trying to remember his dream.

All he remembered was darkness. He had looked around, confused out of his wits. What on earth was he doing there?

And then a redhead had appeared out of the darkness. She had called to him; she looked sort of...familiar. The boy frowned, struggling to remember her face.

She...she couldn't be. But she _had_ to be...

_But it can't be, _he chided to himself, a twinge of pain in his chest. He silently cursed his mind for letting him _believe-_

"Vindex?" Drakon, the Enderguard for Enderus, peered into his room. "Enderus would like your help in…negotiating with the updwellers."

"The updwellers?" Vindex wasn't surprised. For the past five months, after the breakout of Wither, humans had been coming nonstop to Enderus' realm, trying to seek shelter, or a cure. Understandably, it was beginning to stress the Enderking out.

Vindex sighed. "I'm coming. Just let me get ready." Drakon nodded, closing the door.

When he thought no one else was going to barge in, Vindex sat on his bed. He frowned, trying to process his odd dream again.

A redhead…he knew a redhead once, hadn't he?

And a blond, as well as a curly-haired girl and a bulky boy.

But that was a lifetime ago.

He shook his head, angry with himself. Why must he think about his old life like this? Why must his dreams torture him? Did it matter anymore? Maybe it once had. But now it didn't.

After all, they were dead.

* * *

**A/N Ooh, getting intense, eh?**

**There's a reason why I chose for the name to be "Vindex." See if you can guess ):)**

**Truth be told, I almost didn't include the last tidbit. Then I thought, ****_Ah, screw it._**

**Disclaimer: There are no official pairings in this story insofar. This is merely friendship fluff, tragedy, etc. Whatever you wanna call it.**

**I hoped you enjoyed! Please follow, favorite, leave a review, whatever you wanna do!**


	5. Legends

**A/N So. I apologize in advance for how long this chapter is, not to mention how _boring_ it might be.**

**But...**

**You may not know what's going on next, why Petra and Ivor decide to...well, you'll see.**

**So...**

* * *

Petra didn't realize she had her sword next to her until she was pointing it into the doctor-dressed man's face. Far from being fazed, he tilted his head, giving her an unimpressed look.

"Can you point that _away_ from my face?"

Petra could've done that, except she was quite wary now. Enderface looked like he was at least _part_ Enderman, and Petra…didn't have such a great history with Endermen. Or monsters in general.

"How would I know you won't kill me?" She narrowed her eyes.

Enderface rolled his eyes. "If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have slowed down your sickness now, would I?"

At his words, Petra shot a look at Jack, wondering if he was going to affirm that this…man healed her sickness. She highly doubted it, seeing he was part-Enderman, but then again, he _was_ wearing a doctor-like uniform. But some do it so that they could trick people, prey on the weak.

But Jack merely laughed. He pressed Petra's sword down from Enderface's face and spread his arms out. "Meet our doctor and expert on everything Nether-related, Petra."

Petra blinked, almost owlishly. She glanced at Jack, briefly wondering if he was actually joking. She sorta hoped that he would say/do something, _anything_, to indicate he was joking.

Nothing.

She coughed awkwardly. "Ah…" She shot a look at Ivor that she hoped conveyed a _what the heck?_ "What?"

Instead of Jack answering, Enderface interjected. "It's because I look like I'm part Enderman, isn't it?" he asked bluntly.

Petra hadn't realized she was strangling her sword until she felt splinters digging into the skin of her fingers. She forced her grip to become lax. "Uh…"

Clearly, Enderface took that as a _yes._ He huffed. "I'd forgotten what it was like when people didn't know that I was part human." He shook his head before offering a hand to Petra. "The name's Draconus. Pleased to meetcha."

Petra eyed his hand warily before turning to Ivor, sending a silent question.

"You can trust him," Jack assured her quietly, seemingly having caught her sense of distrust towards Draconus. The mentioned man continued to quietly hold out his hand, his face completely impassive.

Petra hesitated only slightly before reluctantly accepting his outstretched hand. "Don't kill me," she warned.

Draconus' mouth twitched, but other than that, his face was perfectly blank. "Of course not."

Petra released her hand from the handshake, continuing to peer at him, suspicion churning in her stomach. Before she could say anything, though, Jack clapped his hands together, looking relieved.

"There we go! Now…" Jack peered at Petra and Ivor with a thoughtful gaze. "What are you folks doing out here in Beacontown?"

Ivor was the one who answered, albeit enthusiastically. He flung his arms up, nearly hitting Draconus in the process. Draconus sent him a deadpan look, which Ivor probably didn't see. "We need to figure out the cure for Wither!" he shouted hurriedly.

At this, Jack's and Draconus' eyebrows shot up, comically (and creepily) simultaneous. They glanced at each other. Draconus' face held a hint of surprise, the first real emotion she's seen on his face.

"You do know that there is no _physical_ cure for this batch of Wither, right?" Draconus pointed out, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side.

Petra frowned. "But then how did you stop my sickness?"

At this, Ivor's eyebrow rose. "Yes, how did you manage? I don't think there's any documented case of being able to slow down Wither…"

Draconus shot him the most unimpressed look Petra had ever seen. "You're a potionist," he pointed out. "Shouldn't you know this stuff?"

Ivor blinked, almost owlishly at him. Petra would've found it really funny had she not been caught up in Draconus' words: "_No physical cure."_ Petra played with the edge of her bandage. If what Draconus was saying was true, then there was no way that they could end the Wither. Tens of thousands of people were dying, turned into those… those _things_. If there _was_ no cure, then… there's no way to go home, was there?

A heaviness weighed on her chest, a twinge of pain that strummed through her heart. _Home._

She was pulled out of her reminiscing when Draconus began speaking again. "Milk," he stressed, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ivor blinked once. Twice. "Pardon?"

Even Petra blinked at him, confusion whirling in her chest. _Milk? What about it?_

Draconus sighed, pressing a hand to his temple. Even through the impassive mask on his face, Petra could see exasperation and amusement flashing in his eyes. "Milk, combined with a healing potion, can heal a small bout of Wither." He spoke slowly, as if thinking that Ivor was a small child.

Ivor blinked. "Huh."

Then he scowled, as if he suddenly realized that Draconus had low-key insulted him.

Before he could do anything though, Draconus continued, "But remember, it can _only_ heal a small bout of Wither." He frowned, a concerned expression flitting on his face. "This strain of Wither… it's the most primitive version, dating back to when the First Realm was created…"

"Thefirstwhosaywhatnow?" Ivor butted in, but Draconus continued on as if he hadn't heard the potionist (much to Ivor's exasperation, if his deepening scowl was anything to go by, and Petra's amusement).

Draconus looked deeply troubled now, the first extreme emotion Petra's seen him display. "It's obvious that this…this isn't natural."

"So…you said there is no cure for this, is there?" Petra flatly asked.

Draconus shook his head, his impassive expression coming back to his face. "I didn't say that," he corrected. "I said no _physical_ cure. But maybe Enderus can help you…"

"Enderus, as in the End's entity Enderus?" Ivor burst out, looking excited and apprehensive all at once. Petra frowned, tapping her sword against the bed's legs.

"Isn't he a myth, though?"

Even before the words were out of her mouth, Draconus had directed his grave gaze on her. "He is _very_ real," he asserted. "And he has had a hand in dealing with unnatural outbreaks, such as this one."

Petra frowned again, skepticism making itself known to her. "This is all well and good, but how do we know he's real?"

Enderus' mouth quirked humorlessly as he spread his arms out. "Your proof is right in front of you."

Petra stared at him for a long moment, wondering if he was joking. He didn't _seem_ like that type of person. "What."

Jack had kept quiet until this point, for he spoke up. "Back in the old legends," he explained, "Enderus had children, who then went off to the human world, falling in love with and marrying humans. They, in turn, had children of their own. In other words, most of the time Enderus had descendants that were at least _part_ Enderman."

Ivor hummed, looking at Draconus with newfound respect and interest. "So _you're_ one of those descendants?"

Draconus nodded.

Petra sighed. "Okay, but how do we _know_ you're one of these descendants?"

Jack exchanged a look with Draconus. "Skeptical, this one," Draconus remarked. "Kinda like you."

Jack shrugged. "Well, how was _I_ supposed to know that you were one of these so-called descendants?"

Draconus sighed. "Very well."

And then he did the weirdest thing they've _ever_ seen him do: he opened his jaw.

Well, that sounds normal.

The weird part was that it kept _dropping_.

Ivor and Petra both let out yelps of surprise and fear. Petra's heart was practically in her throat as she stared, horror-struck, at the currently-unhinging jaw of the Ender-Human descendant. His Enderman eye flashed, and he let out an inhuman _screech,_ one that sounded eerily similar to an Enderman's.

That said, his jaw retracted again, and once more, he was gazing at them with a serene expression.

Petra couldn't say a word, not after _that_.

"Well, then," Draconus said, sounding mildly amused. "Shall we head to the library?"

* * *

Petra, Ivor, Nurm, and Jack all walked in the library.

The first thing Petra noticed was how _big_ the library was. The ceiling extended high above their head. It was easily 50 blocks by 60 blocks by 90 blocks, to her estimation.

The second was how _tall_ the bookshelves were, and how many there were. Rows upon rows of them lined the walls and were in rows. A table was situated near the entrance, as well as an oak desk that was polished and overwhelmingly organized.

Then a head with fluffy, dark hair popped up from behind the desk. Petra surveyed him. He looked to be no older than 15, with cheeks that still haven't lost their chubbiness. His glasses were slightly askew. He blinked, adjusting his glasses as he looked over at them. "Oh-oh! Nurm! Wasn't-wasn't expecting you right now."

Petra continued to study him. This kid was noticeably nervous and hyper, especially since he was fumbling with his papers.

Jack cleared his throat, drawing the kid's attention to him. "Oh, and Jack! Haven't-haven't s-seen you around in a while, heh."

That's when he noticed Petra and Ivor. His eyes scanned her inquiringly. "Uh-um, who are they?" he asked, gesturing to them with his hand.

Jack turned to them. "Guys, this is Radar, Nurm's assistant. Radar-" He turned to the kid. "-this is Petra and Ivor."

"Oh, pleased to meet you! Um, w-was there s-something you guys need?"

Petra observed the kid, how he was fumbling around with his papers, as if flustered by their appearance. She raised an eyebrow. _Cute,_ she mused to herself. _Adorable._

Meeting Ivor's eyes, she could see that he had come to the same conclusion, if his softer-than-usual expression was any indication.

Nurm hummed towards the teen.

Radar blinked. "The-they want a copy of _The Legend of Deities_?"

"Well…" Petra peered at Nurm. "If it contains information about Enderus, then by all means yes," she finished, turning towards Radar.

The kid had already dove into a bookshelf before Petra was even finished speaking. She blinked, disoriented at how fast he moved. She exchanged a startled look with Ivor.

"No-no, not that… nope! Where-" Radar popped out from behind the bookshelf, his glasses slightly askew again. In his hands was a _huge_ book that was easily fifteen pounds. With arms so skinny as Radar's it was a wonder to Petra that his arms weren't shaking.

"Found it!" he declared, perhaps too obviously.

Nurm made a noise of approval and gestured with his hands towards the table. Radar managed to carry the heavy volume (_seriously, where did he get that strength?_) and set it down on the table.

Petra and Ivor slowly trailed over to where Nurm was leafing through the pages. Nurm made a satisfied sound as he stopped at the entry with a strip of a picture on the top.

Petra leaned in, staring at the picture. The picture was that of a humanoid figure, with a knight-like helmet over his face and armor that had the same color scheme of the End, black and dark gray with purple stripes and highlights in a uniform pattern. Lines of gold outlined the chestplate. Beneath his helmet, the person's eyes were like an Enderman's; purple irises with pink whites. His helmet had gold spikes jutting out from their forehead.

In the picture, he was holding a sceptre topped with a stone that seemed to pulse with light. He was holding it up as one of his feet rested on a rock, as if declaring victory.

Underneath the picture was the title: _Enderus the End King._

Petra exchanged a look with Ivor before they both took a seat, scanning the text. Well, more like Ivor was scanning the text; Petra became bored the moment she looked at the first word in the book.

It's not like she can help it; she was never a bookish, puzzle-solver person. She left that up to Olivia and-

_Don't._

She gritted her teeth. _Don't think about it._ With a mighty heave, she shoved everything back into a dark closet and locked it up again.

But she knew, in the back of her mind, that she'd have to deal with it later.

Ivor's voice broke into her thoughts. "It says here that Enderus had been known by many names, one of which called him The Curer."

"Does it also call him The Summoner of All Things Freaky?" Petra snarked. Ivor pointedly ignored her.

Even with her remark, Petra found herself leaning in, drawn to the information as Ivor continued, "According to testimonies and records, he's had a hand in dealing with unnatural outbreaks of the worst diseases, such as the Nether Plague, the Entity Contagion, and of course, the Wither."

Petra felt her eyebrow raise. "Wait, so he knows how to stop this?"

Ivor rolled his eyes. "No, he's just called The Curer because he spends all his time thinking about how to preserve meat," he snapped. "_Yes_, he knows how to stop it!"

Petra bit her lip in an effort to not snap back at him. It worked.

Barely.

"But according to the text, it says that Enderus hasn't been seen in the Overworld for a very long time," Ivor added. "The last time he's been seen was ten years ago."

Petra processed his words. "So, to find Enderus," she began slowly, "we'll have to go to the End, don't we?"

Ivor clapped his hands together excitedly, making Petra jump. She swore her heart nearly stopped. "Road trip!"

Radar's head resurfaced from the mound of paperwork he was staring at. "Road trip?"

Petra sighed.

_This is gonna be quite the quest, isn't it?_

* * *

Vindex stood next to Enderus, who was currently sifting through files of different reports made by the humans. The Enderking sighed.

"This _has_ to be the work of The Eyeless One," he ground out tiredly. Vindex raised an eyebrow. Normally, they didn't make any noticeable reference to _him_; only Enderus could say his name, but even then, he did not dare make any reference.

So if the Enderking made an obvious reference…

"You're sure it was him?"

Enderus lifted his head, looking at Vindex. "From what you've said, as well as these reports of unnatural outbreaks of Wither, yes, I believe so."

Vindex shifted uneasily. He's talked about his… _incident_ with Enderus, yes, but a part of him had hoped that this could be a curable disease.

Sadly not.

"There is an updweller that wish to speak to us about all…this," he continued, gesturing vaguely. "He's the human who lives in the End. His name has slipped my mind, but I think his name was Soren…?"

Vindex nearly choked at Enderus' statement.

"And then there are some more from Hypixel's Empire," he continued, unaware of Vindex's spluttering. "Northern is coming with Fenris and Kyra to discuss the issue."

Vindex, finally managing to compose himself, remarked smoothly, "I haven't seen them around in a while now."

Enderus shrugged. "I suppose that's because, as Northern put it, they were dealing with some other… issues at the time."

Vindex, though curious, remained silent as he allowed the Enderking to continue.

"So, when will they come?" Vindex asked patiently.

"Tomorrow. Although…" Enderus peered at Vindex seriously. "I believe you should patrol the area. Make sure that Soren arrives safely. With Nicro on your side, you should fend off any… _unwarranted_ guests."

"I still don't know _why_ you would allow him to stay here, especially since I'm sure Nicro would have some trauma about-"

"It's valuable to have a connection to the Overworld that people may perceive as their own," Enderus interrupted. Before Vindex could take any offense, Enderus continued, "You have been a valuable mediator between the updwellers, but they're more likely to trust one of their own rather than someone who's half-Ender."

Vindex was silent for a moment. "I guess that's fair," he agreed.

Enderus stood up abruptly, walking out of the room. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must attend to an issue," he said, his business-like manner back in place.

Once he was gone, Vindex walked over to a window, staring out into the Void. For a long time, he's considered this place home, even after his _incident_ that he still only has scattered memories about. He _still_ remembered his old life, his friends, but…

Now, he was about to meet the first human he knew of since he'd disappeared off the Overworld.

He squeezed his eyes shut, surprised to feel warm liquid trickling down his cheeks.

_They're dead._

_They're dead._

_They're dead._

So why, then, did he feel so _hopeful?_

* * *

**A/N One step closer, one step closer to revealing who Vindex iiiissss (though I'm sure some of you can guess who it is)**

**Who's Nicro, you may ask? Take a guess; I'm hoping that within, oh, about four chapters, she will be revealed**

**And with that, you have my self-insert OC referenced for the very first time**

**Would you believe me if I said that I had planned out all of this, and it spans about 45, 46 chapters long?**

**Writing's a nice life after all :D**

**Anyways, hoped you enjoyed this chapter! Do whatever, and God Bless!**


	6. Finding (Reunions)

"Leaving so soon?"

Petra paused, registering the voice. Slowly, she turned towards the doorway, where Jack was leaning against the frame. His expression was hard to place; maybe it was a mix of curiosity, intrigue, and maybe, _just_ maybe, a hint of sadness.

Petra shrugged, steeling her voice into a cool tone. "It's not like we have a choice. The quicker we leave, the quicker we find Enderus and find a way to stop this mess."

Jack was silent for a moment, studying her with a soulful eye, the other staring blankly at her. "I understand," he muttered softly. His mouth twisting into a grim smile, he walked over and clapped a hand on her back. "If you ever want to go out on an adventure anytime… you know where I'd be." His eyes shadowed, as if the sentence had more meaning behind it than she knew.

Petra gave a slow, almost unwilling nod. "Understood," she finally affirmed, letting a small smile creep on her face.

Jack smiled sadly at her. "You do that," he said gruffly, almost fondly. With a strut, he was out the door. Petra threw in the last of her belongings and sauntered out the door, catching up with the man. As they chatted away, Petra noted absentmindedly that villagers were coming out to glance at them as Jack walked her to the gate.

Ivor was waiting for her by the time they both arrived at the gate. He gave a grunt of acknowledgement towards the adventurer.

A tap on her shoulder drew her attention to Radar's wide-eyed stare and Nurm's slightly-saddened expression. "You're leaving?"

"We have to," Ivor answered gruffly, though not unkindly.

Petra paused for a moment before she sighed, looking at the young teen fondly. "We'll be back when this entire mess blows over."

At this Radar seemed to relax. "I hope you do," he said, almost sincerely.

Petra almost smiled at his tone. Almost.

Because his tone reminded her of-

_Don't_.

Jack nodded towards the duo (and Reuben) and pointed towards the distance. "In the woods, there is a dungeon that we dug up. There's an End Portal in it, though none of us used it."

Petra blinked at him. "Why not?"

Jack scratched his beard. "We mostly decided to use it for an emergency bunker, in case the Withereds somehow got through our defenses, we would use it as a last resort." Seeing Petra's concerned expression, he quickly assured her, "We got rid of the monster spawners and put up torches. You shouldn't have a hard time."

Petra shot him a warm smile. "Thanks, Jack." An impatient grunt from Ivor turned her attention back to him. She tore her gaze to see the potionist already moving and Reuben standing in front of her, as if unsure of what to do.

Her attention was directed towards the adventurer when she felt his gruff hand come down on her shoulder. "If you manage to fix this mess," Jack offered, "my offer still stands."

A swirl of surprisingly strong emotions burst in her chest, nearly suffocating her. All she managed to say was a somewhat-choked, "Okay."

Jack nodded, smiling sadly. He released her. She felt his eyes boring into the back of her head as she hurried to catch up to Ivor. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

As they continued to trek (Reuben snuffling against the ground as he padded alongside her), she couldn't help but consider Jack's request. It was true that she _wanted_ to go with him. Once the whole mess had been cleaned up, she could go wherever she wanted, couldn't she? It's not like there was anything keeping her from doing so. She's got nothing left to lose.

And yet…

It almost feels as if she was _betraying_ Jesse somehow, as if leaving meant she forgot about him. And deep down, she knew she was probably being irrational, but her heart… She just couldn't bring herself to move on, even when it was obvious everyone else had.

Some life she's living, huh?

They reached the area where Jack had indicated. True to his word, there was a gaping maw in the ground, the walls of dirt illuminated in increments by the torches placed there.

"Shall we?" Ivor asked smoothly.

"By all means, you may go first," Petra snarked back in an overly-polite tone, just to mock the potionist. Ivor scowled at her but said nothing as he descended into the darkness.

Reuben bumped his head into her leg. She looked down to see him staring expectantly at her, as if waiting.

Petra sighed. "I'm going, I'm going."

* * *

They, just as Jack had said, found no mobs awaiting them, which was a relief for once. Now, they were walking through the End, trekking through the dark void. One foot after another, crunching on End Stone. Darkness; dull, mundane darkness greeted their eyes as they continued trekking forward.

Petra had forgotten that she had the Order's amulet, but when she tried to use it in the End, the glow indicating Soren died. Ivor had scoffed, sneering that the amulet didn't work in the End; not that it mattered, _blah blah blah._

Now, Ivor was leading them through the void with a _map_, no less. (Petra made sure that Ivor was holding it right side up now.)

Dull, mundane void. Step, step, step, step.

_Fwoop!_

Petra immediately tensed, her senses on high alert. Ivor continued walking forward, obviously unaware of the redhead's hesitation. She scanned the area. Strangely, there had been no Endermen that were wandering around in the End, but still…

Something tingled in the back of her neck. She stiffened as she registered a presence behind her. She slowly turned her head to the side. When she caught a glance of black velvet skin, she snapped her head forward. "Ivor," she hissed.

Ivor turned to look at her, looking slightly annoyed.

_No, don't-!_

His eyes widened with horror when they locked onto the creature behind her. At the same moment, the Enderman let out an inhuman _screech_.

Three things happened right then and there:

Firstly, Petra didn't think. She reacted. Within a millisecond, she bolted forward, practically sweeping Ivor off his feet and dragging him away from the monster. Reuben let out a loud squeal behind her, though of alarm or annoyance, she wasn't sure.

Secondly, the screech attracted many, _many_ Endermen in the area. Within three heartbeats (Petra counted), the area was suddenly, very much _not_ deserted. Ivor gasped, his eyes locked on something behind her. Petra followed his gaze, her mouth popping open in horror when she saw an Enderman standing over them. Its jaw gaping, it screeched in rage towards them.

Thirdly, something grabbed her from behind by the shoulders. She yelped, automatically elbowing whoever it was in the stomach.

The person grunted before hissing, "Quit it, I'm trying to save you!"

His voice was overwhelmingly familiar. Petra paused, trying to place his voice.

The pause was all he needed, apparently, and suddenly Petra found herself on a cliff that overlooked where they had been. Her keen eyes picked up on the lingering traces of Enderdust, as if they had teleported away.

She turned to thank her rescuer… and stopped. Her jaw dropped open.

The boy had removed his mask and was now staring at her, looking equally astonished. His blue eyes were wide with shock. Though his blond hair was disheveled, she could still recognize his face; those features, the eyes, even his telltale blond hair.

She barely registered the other person, who had grabbed Ivor; a ginger-haired man with a distinguished beard. Ivor was currently yelling at him, but Petra didn't hear what he was saying; all she could see was the boy in front of her, the boy she hadn't seen since he had left, all those months ago, to appease a deal he'd made.

Petra took a step forward, her mind a chaotic swirl of thoughts. "Lukas?"

* * *

"Wasn't expecting you two," Soren remarked wryly.

They were currently sitting in Soren's base. Soren had gotten them cups of steaming tea, which Ivor and Petra had accepted.

Nearby, Reuben squealed.

"I mean the _three_ of you," Soren amended.

Ivor scowled at him.

Petra noticed that Lukas was still gaping at her, his mouth opening and closing. "How?" he finally asked, his eyes shifting between her and the potionist.

Her heart twisted painfully, reminding her of a time when they didn't have to worry whether or not their friends were out there, alone, dying, scared. There had been a time when, instead of greeting each other with a, "How are you still alive?", they had exchanged friendly banter with each other.

But that was a lifetime ago.

Petra sighed, setting down her mug gently. She shot him a teasing smile, though some of it felt forced. "What, you thought that a bout of Wither could beat me down?"

Lukas let out a laugh. Spending five months with Ivor, she had almost forgotten how all her friends' laughs. His was still as she remembered it; light and carefree, as if he was still a builder who was focused on winning his next EnderCon competition.

Though, if Petra looked closer, she could pick out things a normal person probably couldn't. His light-blue eyes were hooded, shadowed with grief, even after all this time. His limbs seemed to tremble with exhaustion, and his arrogant nature had been replaced with something deeper, sadder.

"I didn't doubt it for a moment," Lukas assured her. Soren beamed at the blond. Ivor scowled, though Petra swore his eyes seemed to soften when they landed on the blond.

"Well." Soren was the one to break the silence. He clapped his hands together, glancing over Ivor and Petra with a critical eye. "Mind telling us why you're here?"

Ivor opened his mouth, his eyes fixed into a hard glare towards the architect. But before he could respond with what was most likely an insult, Lukas leaned forward, his eyes glittering with curiosity.

"Yeah, I'm actually curious too. Weren't you guys going to find a cure for the Wither?"

Petra and Ivor glanced at each other, communicating through the looks they were shooting at each other. _I'm going to tell them._

_No._

_Remember, I have a sword with me._

_...Fine._

And so Petra did. She took a deep breath and outlined what they had been doing for the last five months. She explained how they've been searching relentlessly for a doctor that might know a cure to stop the Wither, and how it wasn't until yesterday (_Yesterday? Was it really only yesterday?_)

Lukas' eyes widened in alarm when she got to the part about her scratch. "You've been scratched?"

Petra hastily tried to reassure him. "It's no big deal! The doctor gave me milk and a healing potion and said it would heal!"

Now, Lukas' brow, which had relaxed when he heard she was fine, creased into a confused look. "Milk and potions…?" Behind him, Soren wore an identical expression.

Ivor was looking like he was _very_ much trying not to laugh.

Petra scratched the back of her neck. "Yeah…" With that awkward pause, she took up the story again, explaining the whole milk-and-healing-potions gig, as well as the legend of Enderus and how he supposedly could help them.

Soren's eyes widened when she got to the Enderus part. "We were actually on our way to go find him!"

Lukas made a vague gesture, silencing the ginger. He leaned in. Petra finished the callback by describing their walk through the End, as well as their…unfortunate encounter with the Endermen.

Thus, here they were.

When she was finished, Lukas began by explaining what he had been doing for the last five months. She kinda zoned out, to be honest, but it was mostly about Lukas being drafted into helping Soren with his Endermen experiments and whatnot.

"We were actually on our way towards Enderus, like Soren mentioned, except well…you guys showed up," Lukas said with a chuckle.

Soren made a noise of agreement. "Your appearance completely derailed our plans," he accused, though his tone was more joking than anything else.

Ivor scowled at the ginger again, making Soren's amused mood vanish as quickly as mist under the sun. Petra was beginning to _seriously_ wonder what the deal was with him.

An awkward silence settled over them, all of them staring at each other awkwardly. Then Soren cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "Well, now that _you're_ here, and since we're after the same person… maybe you should join us?" he suggested weakly.

Ivor leaped to his feet, the fury in his eyes startling even _Petra._ Even after spending five months with him, she had never seen him like this. He was either Ivor the Grump, Ivor the Snarky, or Ivor the Indifferent. Never anything in-between.

"Absolutely not!" he spat. Soren looked so startled, he actually _leaned_ away from the fuming potionist. "I refuse to spend my time with _this_-" He pointed at Soren. "-lying, cowardly _cheater!_"

"Oh, you're one to talk!" Soren hissed, fire in his eyes. "Who decided to keep it a secret in exchange for all of our treasures?"

"What is happening right now?" Petra asked Lukas. The blond shrugged, looking troubled.

"Beats me. But Soren's never acted the way he is right now."

Petra sighed, rubbing her temples. _We don't have time for this!_ Every second they argue, thousands-no, _millions_-of people were falling victim to the Wither.

Petra stood, finally fed up. "GUYS!" Ivor and Soren, who were practically in each others' faces, broke away, staring at the redhead with startled expressions.

Once she had their attention, Petra continued, in a much calmer voice, "We get it, you hate each other. But, since we're trekking through the _End_, of all places-" She shrugged. "-we might as well work together."

Lukas moved to stand next to her, silently supporting Petra's decision. Petra shot him a grateful glance, to which he reciprocated. "Petra's right." He broke his gaze to glance over the two Order members. "Now, we need each other more than ever to find a cure."

Petra gave a warning glance towards Ivor's hostile expression, letting her hand casually drift towards her gold sword. "I'm _sure_ they'd agree, right, _Ivor?_"

Ivor glared at her. After a moment, he cast his glance to the ground, muttering a reluctant, "Fine," at the same time Soren sighed, "Sure."

Lukas clapped his hands together, his eyes shining with excitement, as if for the first time, he'd remembered _how_ to be excited. Petra had to squash down a chuckle. "Great!"

Ivor groaned as he rubbed his temples, looking extremely agitated. "Just my luck."

* * *

**A/N YASSS LUKAAAASSSSSS**

**You guys wouldn't believe how much I've wanted to reveal this again!**

**Oooh, Ivor has a pretty big bone to pick with Soren!**

**I hoped you liked this chapter! Leave a review!**


	7. Attacks

Vindex frowned, scanning the terrain from his vantage point. He was standing on a large cliff that jutted out, revealing hundreds upon hundreds of blocks in the distance. Behind him was the looming palace.

His eyes swept over the terrain, trying to pick out any unusual additions to the barren Endland.

Now, to say that Vindex was apprehensive was an understatement.

His emotions were a chaotic _mess_. He was apprehensive, fearful, dreading… and hopeful. He realized with a start that he hoped that his former friends were with Soren; perhaps he could find them again. He growled internally. _Shaddup shaddup shaddup! They're dead!_

But his heart persisted in hoping for the best.

Besides, even if they _were_ alive and somehow found their way here, what's to say that they don't remember him? At best, they would've moved on, tried to survive the wither-infested life they live in now. At worst, they would turn away from him. Who was he? A freak, that's what.

A bit of movement on the land startled him from his brooding. In the distance, his sharp eyes picked up on a group in the distance. Compared to the everlasting darkness of the End, the desolate darkness of obsidian, and the pale Endstone, they were _very_ eye-catchingly colorful.

But they were…running. Why were they running?

Then his eyes happened to drift behind the group.

Oh.

_Oh._

He cursed to himself, standing and unsheathing his sword. _Of course this happens,_ he growled to himself.

Blast it, Immanis!

He backed up from the edge. Once he was at what he considered a satisfactory distance, he took off running towards the edge.

He jumped.

And disappeared, leaving only a trace of Enderdust.

* * *

_15 minutes earlier…_

Ivor grumbled to himself, holding the map in his hands. It was bad enough he was stuck with the hot-tempered girl; now he was with Blond Guy, as well as that _lying, cowardly_-

Focus.

Ivor shook himself out of his thoughts. Up ahead, the girl and Blond Guy were talking to each other, catching up from five-month's worth of not seeing each other. The way they were talking so casually, so comfortable with each other, reminded him of the Order. Just five friends who dreamed of glory before-

_Focus._

He shoved his thoughts into a closet and scowled at the map. So far, so good.

He thinks.

Honestly, Ivor hadn't _needed_ a map to get around the world. When he does, he's usually with the Order, so he lets _them_ take care of planning adventures while _he_ gets potions prepped. And by _them_, he meant Ellegaard and Soren.

Now, he was _seriously_ beginning to regret it.

"Having trouble?"

Speak of the devil.

Ivor scowled as the architect peeked over the potionist's shoulder, observing the map. "No," Ivor said gruffly.

Soren lifted an eyebrow. "Really? Because it seems like you're having trouble-"

"I'm fine!" Ivor snapped. Soren stared at him, his mustache twitching.

"If you say so." The architect shrugged casually. "There's no wrong in admitting that."

Ivor glowered at the architect. "_I am not having trouble!_" he growled.

Soren glanced at him, amusement glimmering in his gaze. "I seem to recall that _you_ were always the one who handed the map to us." He chuckled good-naturedly. "We-Ellegaard and I-seemed to be the only ones who could read a map properly."

Ivor had _finally_ had it with Soren's _infuriating_ remarks. "Yes?" the potionist snapped, rage boiling in his throat. "Well, then, that's the _only_ thing you were good at doing _properly!_"

Soren flinched, blanching, his smile falling. Then his eyes narrowed, his amusement all but vanished. "_Don't_ bring this up," he hissed. "There are children listening."

"Oh, so you _care_ about whether or not the truth would change how _they_ feel about you!" Ivor fumed. "You're as much of a coward when you first started! You haven't changed one bit, Soren, and you will _never_ change!"

"Who are _you_ to tell me that I wouldn't be able to change?" Soren snapped. "Look at you! Still holding onto a grudge that doesn't matter-"

"_Doesn't matter?_" Ivor barked out a dark laugh. He couldn't _believe_ Soren's audacity. "If it were _just_ me you lied to, it wouldn't matter. But the entire _world_ believes that you accomplished a feat that you don't _deserve_ credit to. You glorified yourself, and for what?" He sneered at Soren. "The whole world looked to someone who can stop this Wither-"

"And that's what we're doing!" Soren snarled.

"_No_," Ivor growled, his voice forceful with anger. "You abducted a mere _child_-" He gestured towards Blond-Guy, not that he personally cared too much. "-for five months, and only _now_ are you trying to find a cure! At least the redhead and I, we were actually _trying_ to find one."

Soren scoffed. "Oh, and I assume you had _such_ success…"

Ivor wheeled on him, his vision going red with rage. "You're one to talk," Ivor snapped. "At least _I_ was honest about everything! At least _I_ tried to go through with my words! You coward couldn't even revealed the truth! _You_ put off trying to _help_ humanity, and for what? Because you don't trust us? Because you don't think _humans_ are worth it?"

Soren was staring at Ivor with wide eyes and an open mouth. Ivor wasn't even done yet.

"If you want to be a _real_ hero, _Soren_-" He spat out the ginger's name as if it were poison. "-then _maybe_ you should stop being so selfish!"

Soren opened his mouth, eyes blazing, but before he could shout, scream-Ivor wasn't sure-Petra wheeled around to them, her own eyes flashing with anger.

"Shut up!" she hissed. Ivor realized dimly that she had her iron sword out. Beside her, Blond Guy was glancing around warily. His eyes were bright with fear, and he appeared on edge.

Immediately, Ivor could tell that something was off. He clamped his jaw shut, though it took a lot of effort to not start screaming at Soren again. Beside him, the mentioned ginger did likewise, though he shot Ivor a withering glare.

Withering. How funny.

"Do you hear that?" Petra hissed softly. Ivor strained his ears, trying to pick out what the girl was talking about. Even the pig-Reuben-had fallen silent, as if sensing something was very, very wrong.

Now that he was done bantering with Soren, Ivor could see, or rather _hear_, what the redhead meant. In the distance, he heard the grumbling of Endermen, as well as the _fwoop_ that accompanied their teleporting.

There was a particularly loud _fwoop_, and Ivor found himself staring at a pair of…

He didn't even know.

They were easily a block thick and wide, a black velvet. At first, Ivor had thought that a tower of obsidian had teleported in or something (they were _that_ huge), but then Ivor registered the velvet-lookalike texture on it. Then it hit him. He slowly looked up…

Right into huge Endermen eyes.

The eyes were easily four blocks by eight blocks. They were _huge_. And immensely terrifying.

And also very, _very_ angry.

As soon as Ivor locked eyes on them, he realized his mistake a millisecond too late. Immediately, the Enderman let out a screech of rage, its jaw unhinging, and it lunged towards them.

Ivor immediately tackled the nearest person to the side-which just so happens to be Soren. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the redhead doing the same to the blond before his vision was obscured by the immensely-giant head.

"Run!" Ivor snapped at Soren, who was staring at the Enderman with a mix of terror and fascination. At Ivor's voice, the ginger snapped out of his revery-seriously, _how_ could Soren be thinking of studying that thing at a time like _this?_-and bolted, Ivor staying close on his heels.

They converged back with Petra and Lukas (the pig was with them, he dimly noted), the former who glared at them with hard eyes. "Who looked at it in the eye?"

"Well, how was _I_ supposed to know that it was an Enderman?" Ivor snapped back.

"Less talking, more running!" Lukas interjected, his voice thick with terror. Ivor chanced a glance back behind him. Immediately, he wished he hadn't.

The Enderman had turned and was now glaring at them, fury bright in its eyes. It let out another screech before stepping, surprisingly nimbly, towards them.

Ivor snapped his head around again. "We'll never outrun it!" he cried. Hopelessness began seeping into his chest, weighing him down, when suddenly, there was a smaller _fwoop_ right in front of them.

All four skidded to a stop, gaping at the newcomer. At first, Ivor thought that it was another Enderman, come to finish off the job. Then he realized that this figure was more humanoid.

This person had a helmet on their face, with a mouthpiece over their mouth, so Ivor couldn't see their features. But he could make out that the right side of their face was black, their right eye a black socket with a purple pupil, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Withereds. He couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spin.

The other eye was perfectly normal, framed by scars, but still normal. They were a dark gray, filled with storms and clouded. A flash of recognition went through their eyes, but it disappeared before Ivor could be certain.

They wore a chestplate that had a symbol in purple that faintly resembles a _V_. Their right arm gleamed unnaturally in the little light of the End, as if it were made out of metal. Their left arm was covered with armored sleeves and gloves. They wore leggings that held veins of purple and gold.

In their right hand, they held an obsidian-black sword with a silver hilt (and a purple gem on it) and a leather handle. Ivor made out runes that were in the galactic alphabet on the sword: _shield_, he quickly translated.

Before he could say anything, the person quickly vaulted over the four, coming to a stop in front of the Enderman. They drew out his sword and leaped next to an obsidian pillar. The newcomer twisted so that his feet were brushing the stone. The Ender slammed their feet on the stone, pushing them up towards the monster's face. With a mighty heave, they hurled their sword straight into its eye.

The gigantic monster _roared_ in pain. It stumbled, its long, lanky arms grabbing for the sharp weapon that was lodged in its eye.

Soren looked horrified. "Do they have a death wish?" he hissed. The potionist couldn't help but agree with the architect. Ivor looked around the group, gauging their reactions. Lukas had an equally-horrified gaze leveled on the newcomer, but Petra's was more of shock. And something else too: was it _recognition?_

How would she know this person?

Then, just as suddenly, the person was right next to Ivor. "C'mon," he said, his voice strangely calm. "Let's get out of the open."

Petra started, as if he'd said something familiar.

With that, he took off running towards an obsidian pillar. Everyone else followed, ducking behind the large structure. Ivor could hear the monster's roars growing fainter, as if it decided that they weren't worth it.

The Ender turned, surveying them with a critical eye. A flash of recognition passed through his eyes when they landed on Lukas and Petra, much to Ivor's wariness. Who was he? And how did he know Blond-Guy and Petra?

Lukas, for the most part, was looking slightly disturbed by the Ender-person's critical gaze, but Petra's eyes were narrowed as she met his gaze. The Ender's eyebrow arched as he swept his gaze over Ivor and Soren. When his gaze landed on the potionist, a shiver crept down Ivor's spine.

He cast a glance down, where Reuben was cowering behind Petra's legs. Hesitantly, he reached out to the pig, who flinched. The Ender retracted his hand slightly before bringing out again with surprising gentleness. Reuben carefully approached the stranger, sniffing his hand. Slowly, the pig allowed the newcomer to rest a hand on the pig's head.

There was a sharp intake of air from Petra, who was watching the scene with wide eyes. Lukas had on a similar expression of bewilderment as they gazed at the newcomer. Ivor frowned at them, puzzled.

Perhaps realizing they were watching, the Ender withdrew his hand. He turned from the pig. Ivor thought he saw pain flash in his eyes before they reverted back to their neutral gaze.

"Which one of you is Soren?" he asked cautiously.

The mentioned ginger started when the Ender said his name. He cleared his throat. "Uh, I am."

"You're off to see the Enderking, I presume?"

"Enderus? Yes," Soren confirmed. The End-person nodded.

"He was expecting you." His eyebrows lowered to a frown, his gaze sweeping across them again. "Although, I'm not sure he expected _four_ of you."

Petra approached him, her eyes hard. "So? Would it be a problem?"

The Ender regarded her for a second, his eyes impassive. "No," he finally answered, breaking his gaze with her. "Considering that we have humans coming in and out all the time now."

Ivor frowned, momentarily forgetting his hostility for once. "How come?"

The Ender lifted one of his shoulders in a half-shrug. "Enderus knows more than a mortal does," he said vaguely.

Before Ivor could ask what he meant, Petra cut in, impatient. "Well, are we going to find Enderus?"

The Ender nodded. "Yes, let's go."

"Wait." Lukas stopped. He turned to the newcomer, eyes curious. "What's your name?"

The Ender tilted his head for a long moment, as if debating if he should tell them.

"Vindex."

* * *

Enderus' palace was _huge._ As in, awe-inspiring huge.

Ivor felt his eyes go wide with wonder as everyone else made exclamations of shock and amazement.

The entire palace had been constructed with quartz and veins of magical purple blocks-Void blocks, Vindex had explained-and gold. The ceiling was a dome of purple and black glass, arching majestically towards the sky.

The inside was no different either; glowstone stood on blocks in an orderly fashion, giving the entire palace a warm glow. A royal-red carpet greeted them when they first stepped in the high-arching doorways, leading to the throne.

And sitting on the throne was…

Ivor's breath caught in his throat. The Ender seated on the throne perfectly matched the picture that had been found in the book; even the eyes. Even in the same room, Ivor could feel the ancient power he radiated. He was currently talking with a group of three people whose outfits didn't match the aesthetic design around them. Upon Vindex clearing his throat, the Ender turned, raising an eyebrow at them.

Beside him, he heard Petra's and Lukas' breaths catch in their throats. Soren was regarding the Ender with a look of reverence and respect.

He knew, without a doubt, that he was looking at Enderus, the King of the End.


	8. Revealed

"Soren." Petra shivered at the Enderking's voice. Even his _tone_ commanded respect and reverence and seemed to promise something deadly if they didn't comply. His gaze was fixed on the ginger, who shifted uneasily under his hawk-like eye.

His eyes swept over the group. When his gaze lingered on Petra, she involuntarily shivered under his searching gaze. "I see you brought three more…" He trailed off, tapping the armrests of his throne.

"What is it that you would like to know?" he finally asked. "I sense you are not here to ask for a refuge from the Overworld…"

Lukas and Petra exchanged astonished glances. _People actually come into the End to escape the Wither?_ She shouldn't have been all too surprised really; the lengths people would go to when the supposed end of the world is desperate, but not without cause.

Beside them, Soren let out a nervous laugh. "I assure you, sire, that I already reside within your world."

Enderus nodded, his eyes impassive. "Well then, what is it that you seek?"

Soren wrung his hands nervously. Petra noted that he seemed to have lost his ability to talk to people. From what Lukas had said, Soren had sealed himself away from the Overworld. "W-well, if you would be so gracious, would you kindly reveal the secret of a cure for the Wither?"

Enderus stared at him for a long moment, his face hard to read. If anything, Soren seemed to shrink under his gaze. Finally, Enderus sighed, almost tiredly. Petra frowned, exchanging a concerned glance with Lukas. Instead of the fearless ruler she first got an impression of at first, he just seemed…tired.

"I'm tired of all these people thinking that I'm someone who's going to strike them down if they say the wrong word," Enderus muttered, almost to himself. Vindex was standing next to him, watching them all very carefully.

Petra _knew_ that Vindex was the boy who she dreamt of the other night. She _knew_ it. Everything matched: his socket-like eye, the withered-looking skin on the right side of his face. But there was something else going on with him; he seemed a little _too_ familiar.

A very painful kind of familiar.

Movement from the new trio they saw distracted her for a moment. Petra tore her gaze from Vindex and surveyed them.

They wore a skull mask with a blue crescent on the forehead. A set of four horns, two from the temples, two in the jawline, jutted out. An array of feathers stuck out from behind the mask. They wore the same kind of chestplate that Vindex had, except recolored blue. Strangely, their eyes were glowing, the right eye being a pale red while the left was a pale blue with a ocean-blue iris. On their back was an oriental-styled broadsword with a copper-colored blade and runes on them.

The second figure had the same armor and mask as the first, except they held a wooden staff that gives way to a metal harpoon-like hook on the top. The strange part was that the staff was _glowing_ purple.

The third figure had the same chestplate and set of boots, but he had a brown horned helmet that made a T-shaped. He was playing with a metal glove that covered his entire wrist. Fire was spouting out from the top of his helmet. A few months ago, Petra's jaw would've unhinged in shock. Now though? It was believable.

The first figure, the one with the broadsword, cleared their throat. When they spoke, Petra noted that it was slightly alto, yet still distinctly feminine. "Perhaps you should tell them the tale?" she suggested.

Vindex started, his eyes flashing with some undecipherable emotion. Petra cast a quick glance at him, wondering if she had imagined it, but his eyes had reverted back to their usual guarded look.

Enderus sighed. "Very well." He eased out of his throne. With a flick of his wrist, a purple hologram flickered to life.

Petra then realized that the hologram wasn't a technological hologram, but rather some kind of…_magical_ hologram?

Still not surprised.

"Long ago," Enderus began narrating, "there was nothing. Only an abyss. Then, from the darkness, a voice spoke into the world: '_Let there be light.'_ Then, just like that-" A holographic sun suddenly burst to life in the display. "-with only four words, the sun shone down onto us."

Petra had always considered the myth of the Creator as just that-a myth, only meant to entertain children until bedtime. A children's story. But seeing Enderus the End King with her own eyes, she _had_ to believe that not everything was just a story.

She noticed that Vindex's eyes held a mix of different emotions as he gazed down at the display. She was suddenly overcome with a desire to step next to him, comfort him, though she didn't know _why_ she wanted to.

As Enderus continued to narrate, the display changed to fit what he was saying. "With his power, he created lush worlds, filled with beauty, color, and life. He didn't stop at the first known world he had ever created, known as the First Realm." Recognition jolted Petra's brain at those familiar words. "He expanded upon his creations. Made even more worlds." At this, the hologram zoomed out of the First Realm, showing an infinite number of other worlds, all linked with each other as if in a web.

"But…" The images vanished, as if sucked into a great dark hole. "There couldn't be the good without the evil." The hologram flickered back to life, revealing a pair of eerie eyes that glowed without pupils. The image had cast shadows onto Enderus' face, revealing his grim expression. "Thus, from the ashes was born another: the Eyeless One."

A pause. Petra knew what the End King would say, even before he uttered it.

"Herobrine."

Vindex then took over, the cracks of emotions in his mask all but gone. "His ultimate goal: to spread havoc and disarray among all the worlds." He swept a hand out, revealing devastating images of people dying, bleeding out. "He first started through bloodshed. Killing off innocent villages." His eyes held some sort of emotion Petra couldn't place. Anger? Bitterness?

"But that just got the Creator's attention," Enderus picked up. "The Creator confronted Herobrine in the form of a man. With one word, the Creator banished Herobrine, shaking the very foundations of reality itself. Yet, millions had died at Herobrine's hand before the Creator stopped him."

"The Creator had locked the Eyeless One away in a new realm, one of fire and ash. We know it now as the Nether," Vindex added.

"In order to keep him in check, the Creator employed someone-me-in order to fight against him when the Final Battle arises," Enderus added. The way he said "Final Battle" sent shivers down Petra's spine.

Petra noticed that Vindex's eyes darkened. "But the realm wasn't strong enough to hold him back from his conquest."

"He escaped, yet he stayed low-key for a long while," Enderus explained. "He began spreading the disease of the Nether in the Overworld, the Wither. Centuries upon centuries upon centuries of suffering, death, and darkness."

"Wait," Ivor interrupted. "So you're saying that this outbreak of Wither must be caused by Herobrine?"

"It's only the most likely explanation," Vindex confirmed. His eyes became shadowed. "After all, Enderus recognizes his handiwork."

"The only way to truly undo such an unnatural outbreak was to kill the source," Enderus added.

Petra sucked in a breath. "Kill the source?"

Lukas had on a thoughtful expression as he gazed at the image of people dying from the Wither. "But then how did the Wither outbreaks stop? If the source was Herobrine, then he should've died a long time ago, right?"

Puzzling over his words, Petra realized Lukas was right. If the Wither had stopped, then surely Herobrine would've died a long time ago?

Vindex and Enderus exchanged a glance that was unreadable. Though she couldn't decipher what it was, she knew for certain that they were arguing about something. Before she could point it out, Vindex took over in explaining.

"That's where Herobrine's craftiness preserved him," Vindex explained. "He used vessels. Bodies. He possessed different people to spread the Wither." Petra was _horrified_. It was one thing to do your own dirty work, but to force innocent people to become your victims? She exchanged shocked looks with Lukas. Ivor was staring openmouthed at the images that were flashing on the display, and Soren's face was grim.

Vindex let out a harsh bark of laughter, startling everyone (except Enderus, Skull-Face #1 and 2, and Hornhead). Petra noted, not for the first time, that this story seemed to have a deeper meaning with him than on the surface. "We're lucky that he can only use it per century."

"And then-" His jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a surprising amount of dark anger mixed with… Petra peered in closer, astonished. Was that _guilt_ she was reading? "-he disappeared."

"Where did he disappear off to?" Lukas asked, leaning closer.

Enderus shrugged casually. _Too_ casually, in Petra's opinion. "No one knows."

"Not even _you?_" Ivor asked incredulously.

Enderus spread out his hands in a _don't-look-at-me_ gesture. "I'm not meant to be keeping up with all of that. Deities have their own schedules to follow, after all." But Petra noted the way that the End King and Vindex exchanged looks.

Lukas caught Petra's eye. He frowned, jerking his head towards the two-what was the term Ivor used again?-Enders. His eyes held a good amount of suspicion as he met her gaze.

It was clear what he was saying: _I don't trust them._

_Me neither._ It was clear that the two Enders had something to hide from them; something that _must_ regard to Herobrine. But _what_ was it?

Petra was usually very good at reading other people's ulterior motives; she _had_ to be, if she were to survive her lifestyle of being a mercenary. But Vindex and Enderus were _very_ good at covering their true motives; it was like trying to break through an iceberg. From the top.

"This is a query," Enderus declared, sounding troubled. "I must discuss the best course of action with Vindex, Northern, Kyra, and Fenris."

_Wait, best course of action?_ Enderus never mentioned _that._

"Leave me for now so that I may discuss privately," Enderus finished. As soon as he was finished speaking, Skull-Faces 1 and 2 and Hornhead (probably Northern, Kyra, and Fenris, though she didn't know which name belongs with who) made their way towards him. Vindex was by his side immediately, almost as if he teleported.

Maybe he did.

"Psst!" Ivor hissed. Petra looked over to see the potionist gesturing to her. Beside him, Lukas and Soren were huddled next to him, whispering about…something.

Resignedly, Petra made her way over to the tiny group. When she got with the distance, Ivor's hand shot out, grabbed her arm, and hauled her into the tiny huddle. Petra was about to seethe several different insults towards Ivor-_no one_ will touch her without a broken jaw-when Ivor let go as suddenly as he had grabbed her. Reuben weaved his way through her legs, peering up at them curiously.

"Enderus probably holds the key to defeating Herobrine," Ivor whisper-yelled. This prompted the broadsword wielder to glance over at them. Petra shot a glare at the bearded man, who lowered his voice into a whisper again. "We should ask him to join us!"

Soren crossed his arms, looking dubious. "How do we know if we can trust him?"

Ivor glared at the ginger with startling heat. "Like you have a better idea!"

Petra _still_ wasn't sure what was his deal with Soren.

Lukas glanced over at the other tiny huddle. "I gotta side with Soren on this one," he admitted, turning back to the group. "How do we know if this story is, like, _real_ real? Not, you know, some kind of devious plot to take control of the Overworld?"

Ivor sneered at the blond, who took a step back. "Just like Soren, aren't you?" he snarked, turning to glower at the mentioned ginger. "Always delaying."

Lukas flinched, looking as if Ivor had physically struck him. Petra turned her glare onto the potionist. "Leave him alone," she snapped. "Can't you see that he has a valid point?"

Ivor turned his heated glare back onto her. The fury in his eyes astounded her. _What_ could possibly rile the bearded man so much? Then he sighed, suddenly looking old and tired. The fire left his eyes.

"But…" Petra turned towards Lukas, thinking through both their points. "It's kinda impossible _not_ to believe the story. After all, Enderus was _supposed_ to just be a legend. And he's real."

Soren's eyes widened briefly. "Huh. I suppose you are correct." He glanced over at the End King. "But do you think he would feel obligated to help us?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Lukas asked, frowning.

"Well…" Soren bit his lip. Glanced at the End King. "He's the King of the End, isn't he? Why should he care about the Overworld?"

_Oh,_ Petra suddenly realized.

Before they could continue the conversation, Enderus cleared his throat. Granted, the sound shouldn't have been so loud. But Petra took a moment to marvel at the acoustics of the palace. Immediately, the entire group fell silent, everyone snapping to attention.

_Looks like we'll find out our answer._

Enderus leaned forward. "I have reached a decision," he announced. But before he could continue, the banging of doors echoed through the palace. All of them whirled around just as a guard stumbled into the room.

The first thing she noticed was how _haggard_ he looked. His armor was somewhat disheveled, as if he had been in a scuffle. He was panting hard, as if he'd run all the way from…what?

But that wasn't what Petra noticed most of all.

No. It was the blood.

The guard was bleeding, clutching his forearm.

"Drakon?" Enderus rose, his eyes flashing with concern. "Who did that to you?"

"I came to warn you," he gasped out, his chest still heaving from his sprinting, apparently. "There's dozens of them, Enderus. They…" He gulped in air. "They're coming this way."

Petra briefly wonder who "they" were that he was talking about. Skull-Face-1 unknowingly echoed her thoughts a split second later.

"Who?" Skull-Face-1 stepped forward, her gaze intense. "Who are you talking about?"

"The Bureau," Drakon managed out. Immediately, gasps erupted throughout the room. Enderus, Skull-Mask-1, Skull-Mask-2, and Hornhead started, all of them whipping out their weapons. Claws unsheathed from Hornhead's metal gloves and ignited in green fire.

Oddly, though, Vindex didn't have much of a reaction except his eyes slightly narrowing.

Petra tore her gaze from him and turned back towards the guard, who was still desperately inhaling air. What he said next sent chills down her spine.

"The Bureau is coming, Enderus. They're already in the End."

* * *

**A/N Welp, things are getting intense now...**

**Eeeverything's about to go downhill from here.**

**Also, if you don't know Hypixel-Speak (and the nicknames Petra dubbed them):**

_**-Skull-Face-1: Yours truly! Northern is an Ender Phoenix, a sub-set of the traditional firebirds. She is a Thunderlord Shaman, a Warlord in which it harness-mainly-the power of lightning. It's a damage spec, which means that the specialization is that users mainly deal damage to opponents**_

_**-Skull-Face-2: Kyra the Spiritguard Shaman. The Spiritguard is a defense specialization in which the user summons the spirits to sustain allies and shield themselves from attacks. She's immensely powerful because she was the very first Spiritguard ever (because this spec is fairly new).**_

_**-Hornhead: Fenris the wolf-eared Revenant Warrior. The Revenant is a healing specialization of the Warrior, a Warlord who uses brute strength versus the power of light (Paladin), arcane energy (Mages), and raw elemental/spiritual power (Shaman). Being the first of the Revenants, he is also immensely powerful.**_

**If this ^ still confuses you, just look on my profile for the universe this takes place in *shrugs***

**Reviews, reviews, reviews...nope, sorry; coming up empty.**

**I hoped you guys liked how I switched to Ivor's POV in "Attacks."**

**Leave a review!**


	9. Escape

**Review Reply:**

**Lucysnuffle: Aww, thanks! I'm really glad that you're enjoying this so far! Your support means a lot!**

**Onto the fanfic!**

* * *

Enderus jumped to his feet, muttering a curse under his breath. Aloud, he asked, "How much time do we have, then?"

Drakon shook his head. "I don't know, sire. The rest of the Ender Force is holding them off, but I'm not sure how much time they can buy us."

Petra glanced back and forth them so quickly that her head spun. It was lucky that she was a mercenary; she was used to events happening so quickly that this didn't faze her as much.

She glanced over at Lukas, whose face was pale. They locked eyes, and in that look Petra knew the both of them were thinking the same thing: the Bombings of EnderCon.

But there was no time to dwell on the memories; Enderus briskly strolled across the room. At the center, he stopped. Then he began to-well, Petra wasn't exactly sure. It seemed that he was doing martial arts moves, except it was almost like a dance. Petra found herself drawn to it, entranced.

At the end, Enderus thrust his hands into the air. A beam of purple surged out from his hands, through the glass dome and into the sky.

It seemed to be a long moment before Enderus lowered his hands, his face grim. "They won't need to hold them off that long," he told Drakon. "Only enough so that Vindex can get them to the portal."

Drakon nodded and turned, rushing back out.

_That_ caught Petra's attention. She glanced at him. "What?"

It was Vindex who spoke up next, his voice dark. "Enderus has initiated a full lockdown of the End; a magical dome around the Palace that turns to bedrock the moment it touches the ground. Once it happens, there's no way in or out of the End."

"It hasn't needed to happen, not for centuries," Enderus added. "But because of the… nature of the Bureau, as well as their prize, we _must_ act quickly." He turned, palming Vindex another sword. Petra could that the sword was a double-edged obsidian blade, frighteningly flat (very, _very_ sharp), and very sleek. On the blade were the same runes that she saw on his first sword, though she couldn't make out the meaning.

"Vindex will be your guide back to the Overworld," Enderus announced, turning to Petra and Lukas-not Soren or Ivor, she noted.

"But why?" Lukas blurted out. "Why is he coming with us?"

Vindex's fingers closed over the hilt of his sword, his face grim. His eyes were a chaotic storm of emotions, so much so that Petra couldn't make them out. "Because I'm the only one who holds the key to stopping Herobrine."

A tense silence settled over them as everyone's head turned to regard the young man. Petra hadn't known him for very long, but she felt as though she could follow his lead; he radiated confidence and calm.

"Wait! What about us?" Soren demanded. Ivor scowled, and Petra noticed his hand twitching towards where he stashed his potions.

Enderus gave the architect a critical look. "You and I both know that there's nothing you can do," he said, though not unkindly. "I believe it's time to let others become the heroes, my friend." His gaze flitted over to Ivor, whose expression had eased into an unreadable mask. "Through genuine means."

_Huh? What does he mean by that?_ And why does Soren look stricken by this statement? Before Petra could ask, Enderus turned to her and the other two.

"Go," the End King commanded. "We will hold off the Bureau. There's a hidden End Portal just outside where the bedrock will form, behind the Palace. The Palace has been constructed so that it is very near the edge of the Abyss."

"Why-" Lukas began, only for Petra to shush him. She was _not_ going to waste valuable time when this could be their only chance out of the End.

"The End Portal is on an island, connected by a platform on the top of the palace as well as a staircase." Enderus paused, his eyes grim. "You have one hour."

Skull-Face-1 stepped forward, her eyes dark. "Make it count."

"Will do," Vindex said, but before he could continue further, a piercing alarm blared through the Palace. Petra couldn't help but clap her hands to her ears in an effort to ward off the screech.

"What's happening?" Lukas yelled over the noise, his hands currently trying to crush his ears together.

Drakon rushed in. "Sir! The Bureau-they-!" Before he could continue, he let out a strangled cry of pain before crashing to the ground face-first. Petra could see why: an arrow shaft was protruding out of his back.

The other odd group of three readied their weapons. Petra glanced away long enough to meet Enderus' dark expression.

"The Bureau," he said, "is here."

* * *

Vindex ducked as more and more arrows streamed in through the door. Truth be told, he _could_ just teleport away, but in all honesty, he was _still_ getting used to the fact that he was _able_ to in the first place.

Through the open doorway, he could see colorful figures advancing forward, brightly contrasted with the dull Abyss. That was all he managed to see before Enderus yanked him backwards. "Get them out of here!" the End King snarled in his ear. "Use the secret passageway under the throne. Go!"

Vindex wasted no time. "Petra, Lukas, with me!" he yelled out. He glanced over at Northern, Kyra, and Fenris, who were in battle stances. Northern glanced over, locking her gaze with his. She gave the tiniest nod, almost imperceptibly, but it was enough.

He rushed the two behind the throne, ducking behind the marble wonder. He glanced over to check on the two. Petra seemed to be riled up, ready for battle; the mark of her mercenary lifestyle. Lukas, on the other hand, looked like he was about to be sick. Beside him, Reuben snuffled, staring up at Vindex with clear-brown eyes. Vindex swallowed his emotions and tuned his senses to the situation.

The sound of battle met his ears. The clang of metal filled the air as he glanced over the armrest of the throne, long enough to gauge the skirmish. He was able to see a Bureau member fall under Northern's slashing blade before a stray arrow forced him to hunch back under the protection of the throne.

"What are we gonna do?" Lukas asked, looking half-queasy and half-anxious. Vindex turned, feeling his way on the floor. He felt the two's bewildered stares, but there was no time to explain.

Finally, his hand fell through what appeared to be marble, but in fact was a ghost block, leading to a secret passageway. Behind him, he could hear Petra's sharp intake of breath before he glanced at her.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" he barked. Petra snapped out of her daze and immediately leaped through the hole. It looked as though the marble floor had swallowed her up. Lukas glanced over at it uneasily before turning to Vindex.

"If you want to live, I'd suggest you jump," Vindex remarked dryly. Without waiting, he scooped up Reuben without thinking and stepped over.

The feeling of plummeting was something he would never become used to, not even after he's used this escape route countless times. He landed and rolled instinctually, absorbing all impact. Behind him, a split second later, he could hear Lukas muttering an "Oof!" when he landed.

Up ahead was a two-by-three block tunnel, swallowed by darkness. Petra was gazing down the tunnel, her head turned away so he couldn't gauge her expression.

With a jolt, he realized he still had Reuben in his arms, who was oinking in annoyance at him. "Sorry," he mumbled, placing the pig carefully to the ground. As soon as he did, the pig began sniffing around, as if checking for roots to dig up. Vindex became aware of and very pointedly ignored Lukas' bewildered stare.

The half-Ender shook himself off and began walking forward briskly, the sound of footsteps behind him indicating the others were following him. He pulled out a torch; not that he needed it, but it seems that the other two-and Reuben-may feel more comfort in having a light source.

After a long bit of silence-and mundane walking-Petra walked up next to him. She shot a question at Vindex, her voice filled with suspicion. "What do you mean, _you're_ the key to defeating Herobrine?"

Even after all this time, Vindex still couldn't believe… He answered evenly, "I know how to handle him. He and I…we've had some run-ins."

He could _feel_ her stare boring into his skull. "Okay, so if you know how to handle him, why isn't he dead yet?"

Vindex cringed internally, her question hitting too close to his own regrets, but he answered, "He wasn't what he said he was." He paused, turning to the redhead. He locked eyes with her, allowing her to see his internal struggle. "You have to understand: Herobrine is nothing if not sly and cunning. He can play on your greatest hopes-" A flash of _her_ body, broken, bleeding, lying on the ground. "-or your worst nightmares."

Petra must've sensed his dark tone, for she looked at him inquiringly. That was always the one thing he didn't like her nature (when directed at him, of course); she was always too perceptive, too much so for his comfort. "So which was it for you?"

Vindex swallowed, averting his eyes from her. He couldn't let her see the guilt and the shame that was currently whirling within him. "Both."

A beat. After the increasingly-awkward silence, even from Reuben, as if he sensed the atmosphere's change (_of course he did, he was always an intelligent pig_), Vindex turned and began walking again, trying to smooth out his features, block the emotions that were raging in him from being discerned by the two, especially Petra.

It was a long while before Lukas spoke up again. "Are you sure we're not being followed?" For some reason, his voice was a whisper.

Petra frowned at him. "Why?" she asked, but her voice was also a whisper; maybe Lukas whispering compelled her to whisper.

Lukas glanced uneasily over his shoulder. "I think I hear footsteps."

Vindex abruptly stopped, straining his ears. After a moment, Vindex realized Lukas was right; there was the faint pattering of footsteps. Faint, but still noticeable, especially with the extra crunch thrown in there.

He made a decision on the fly; he handed the torch to Lukas, who looked startled for a second. It reminded Vindex of another event, long ago, when the blond had the same expression.

"Go. Continue straight on until you reach a wall with ladders on it," Vindex hissed, glaring into the dark. "I'll handle this intruder."

Petra folded her arms. "Why can't we help?"

Once again, he was reminded of her stubborn nature; in this case, not helpful. "Can _you_ see in the dark?" he pointed out. He lowered his voice even more. "Look, whoever they are, they can easily spot us with our light source. Since this is in the dark, we won't be able to see them coming."

Petra rolled her eyes. "It's a hallway," she snarked. "I'm pretty sure that regardless of the light, there's only one way for them to meet us."

Vindex shook his head, trying to will the redhead to understand. "There are many other hallways that are connected to secret entrances throughout the palace. For all we know, a small force is attacking the throne room to distract everyone else while the others had split up and are raiding the other rooms."

Petra was silent for a moment, her eyes glinting with unease. "Why do you have to point out the possibilities?" she muttered before sighing.

"So…should we go?" Lukas ventured, nervously peering over Vindex's shoulder. Vindex noted that the quiet pattering that had been barely noticeable was definitely getting louder.

"Go!" the half-Ender hissed, shoving them away. Without a word, Petra turned and immediately fled, Lukas following her, Reuben on his heels.

Within a moment, Vindex was plunged back into the perpetual darkness, but he didn't mind; in addition to having a limited range of teleportation, he could also see in the dark. Perks of being half-Ender.

It wasn't long before Vindex was able to hear the heavy panting of someone as they began streaking towards him. He was able to shut off his glowing iris, leaving him undetectable, especially from humans.

Soon, Vindex's eyes focused on a man, wearing flimsy armor, emerging from the dark and running towards him, a diamond sword in his hand. Vindex slipped to the side as the Bureau member continued to barrel forward before kicking his leg out in a low sweep.

The man yelped in pain as his head hit the ground. The Bureau member picked himself up and began swerving wildly, his head snapping from side to side as he called out, "Who's there?"

_This is a little too easy._ Vindex lunged forward, pushing his forearm to the man's throat as he slammed the Bureau agent into the opposite wall. He let his eye glow, taunting the man.

The man gasped for air, grasping Vindex's arm. "Who-who are you?" His eyes shone with fear as Vindex let him see who he was up against.

Vindex relished the moment he leaned in, putting his face up close to the member's eyes. "The name's Vindex," he growled, low and menacing. "Tell Hadrian I'm not done with him yet." With that, he released his pressure.

His instincts screamed at him as he registered another presence. Vindex jerked to the side, but it was too late. A scraping sound was heard as a blade made contact with his artificial right arm. Vindex spun, snarling as he came face-to-face with another agent that must've snuck up on him while he had been distracted by the other guy.

"Well, well, well," the newcomer drawled. In one hand, she was holding his diamond sword; in the other, a torch. "If it isn't Vindex." She twirled his sword casually, but Vindex could tell that her muscles were tense, as if expecting Vindex to attack.

Without breaking her gaze, the newcomer yanked the other guy onto his feet. "Report back to the commander," she instructed, though she kept his gaze firmly on Vindex. The scared member gulped and nodded, turning and hastily fleeing back into the darkness. For a moment, the newcomer and Vindex stood off, staring each other down.

Unfortunately, Vindex recognized her face; he's seen it way too many times after every encounter he's had with them. "Mevia," he noted without much enthusiasm.

"That's right," the blue-haired woman cackled. "What, you thought you could escape from us?"

Vindex raised an eyebrow coolly, inwardly marveling how calm he was acting. "That was the intended effect."

"Well, news flash, Ender: We aren't done with you." Her cackling glee had suddenly been replaced by a deadly, not-quite-sane calm.

Vindex saw a flash of red and blue behind Mevia and knew exactly what it was. Or rather, _who_ it was. He continued staring calmly at the blue-haired woman. "Well, that's great. 'Cause I also have a bone to pick with him." He shrugged. "Not that he'd have the guts to face me."

At his dismissive comment, Mevia's face twisted with anger. "Why you-"

"Ah ah ah," Vindex tutted, wagging a finger. "It isn't polite to swear." He glanced over Mevia's shoulder. "Especially when there's other people in the room."

Mevia frowned, the glint vanishing from her eyes, replaced by confusion. "What-"

_Zzzzz!_ The blue-haired woman crumpled to the ground. In her place was Northern, in all her Ender-Phoenix, lightning-harnessing glory. In her hand, her copper blade was smoking, sparks occasionally flying.

Northern lifted an eyebrow as she regarded Vindex coolly as she sheathed her sword. "You know how much I hate swearing."

Vindex couldn't help but bark out a laugh, shaking his head. He turned, sprinting down the passageway. "C'mon," he called out behind him. "Let's find Petra and Lukas and get out of here."

* * *

When they emerged onto the roof platform, the entire place was in _chaos_.

Evidently, some guards had been instructed to guard the platform against unwanted visitors, since right now they, Lukas, Petra, and Reuben were currently locked in combat, since it was _swarmed_ with Bureau agents.

Northern growled before unsheathing her sword again. "Get your friends and get out of here!" she ordered. "You have ten minutes!"

Vindex's stomach dropped. _It took us fifty minutes to get up here?_ Even then, he could see the purple dome almost to the ground.

But there was no time to bemoan all his regrets; Northern was streaking away, slashing and dodging. With some effort, Vindex managed to hustle his way through the crowd, reaching Lukas' and Petra's side.

"We've only got eight minutes left!" Lukas yelled as he tried stabbing his opponent with his torch. Not very effective, in Vindex's opinion. Reuben was wheeling around, screeching and biting at the legs of the enemy agents. "And it's a long way up! How are we going to get up there in time?"

Vindex grimaced. There _was_ a way to get there, but it was risky; not to mention the fact that he couldn't _exactly_ guarantee the safety of Petra, Lukas and Reuben, nor who was about to help them. But seeing as they were running out of time, this seemed to be the way to go.

With a flick of his wrist, a beam of purple light shot into the sky like a beacon; not only it gave a visual indication, but it also sent a telepathic message to who Vindex intended: _Come._

Vindex suddenly realized everyone around him stopped fighting and were now staring at him with confused expressions, even the Bureau agents. Petra and Lukas were staring at him, aghast, as if they're just _barely_ restraining from yelling, _Are you insane?_

After all, the beacon would alert any remaining agents to their location.

That moment's respite ended when Nicro the Ender Dragon flew directly towards them, roaring and spitting fire. Chaos ensued again, this time out of panic as all the agents began fleeing away from the giant dragon. Northern took the moment to leap up and fling her sword into the ground. She shot a bolt of lightning, and the blade redirected it to a certain radius, shocking many of the agents.

She landed and turned, subsequently ignoring Petra's and Lukas' dropped jaws as she addressed Vindex. "Get them out of here. I'll hold them off."

"But… what will happen to you?" Vindex asked, stepping closer to the Thunderlord. Over the five months he's stayed in the End, he and Northern had grown to become friends; he was worried what would happen to her when the dome closed.

Northern's glowing eyes sparked with amusement. "There's more than one way out of this place, Vindex." She nodded towards Nicro. "But the fate of the world lies on your shoulders now, my friend. We shall meet again in the next life, if not this." With her words, she ran to the edge of the platform and took up her stance, shooting lightning at the agents.

_Five minutes!_ He forced himself to run up to the redhead and the blond, the former looking torn between balking in terror or attacking head-on, the latter merely looking confused.

"Guys, this is Nicro. Nicro, some people you shouldn't kill." Nicro snorted, as if to say, "_What, you think I would do that?"_

"Vindex." Petra was strangling her sword's handle now. "That's the Enderdragon."

"_She_," Vindex corrected. "And she will get you to the top."

Petra was staring at him as if he's blown his top off.

Lukas was still looking as if he was trying to piece together some puzzle in his mind. "But… didn't the Order of the Stone _kill_ the Enderdragon?"

_Oh boy._ So they don't know after all.

Vindex shook the thought away. _Three minutes._ "It doesn't matter; I'll explain later! But-" He met their gazes. "-do you trust me?"

After a beat, Petra shrugged. "Well, since you're the only one who can get us out of this mess, count me in."

Lukas quickly followed up with a "Ditto."

"Get on!" Vindex snapped. He scooped up Reuben and thrust him in Lukas' arms, who once again looked surprised at Vindex's actions. _Guess it's just habit now to thrust random stuff onto him,_ Vindex thought wryly.

Vindex was about to leap on when a shooting pain went down his back. He grunted, whirling to face Mevia, who was flanked by two agents on either side, one of them lowering a bow. She had her double axes out, the wicked gleam back in her eye. "Take the Ender!"

There was no time to waste. Vindex turned and yelled to Nicro, "Fly up there-" He pointed towards the floating island with the portal. "-and drop them off!"

Nicro took off without hesitation. Vindex turned back towards them, surveying the crowd. There was no sign of Northern; he was worried, but he had to focus on defending the rest of his friends.

With a bark from Mevia, the soldiers surged forward, lunging for Vindex. Vindex easily dodged them, letting them fall away as he turned towards the other two. The first one charged towards him, but Vindex jumped and twisted, letting the agent charge harmlessly underneath him.

No sooner had his feet touched ground when the last soldier rushed forward, sword slashing. Before he knew it, a slice of pain streaked through his ribs, though soon his pain receded thanks to his advanced healing abilities. Annoyance, more than anything, sparked in him. He unsheathed his sword and parried the agent's next move. With a flick of his wrist, he disarmed the agent and knocked him down.

Then Mevia flung herself forward, blades flashing. Before he knew it, searing pain scorched his chest. Vindex couldn't help but grit his teeth. He unknowingly dropped his blade, his grip becoming lax from the pain. Through a haze of pain, he saw Mevia strolling towards him, smirking.

"What…?"

"Oh, that? That was just an enchantment made to _especially_ kill Enders," the blue-haired woman commented off-handedly. A flash of horror passed through Vindex before he gritted his teeth.

Mevia knelt in front of him, smiling sickly-sweet. "And now, you're _ours._"

_One minute left!_ Vindex couldn't help but chuckle dryly at her misconception. Mevia frowned, looking unsettled.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Except-" Vindex smiled. "-for assuming I've been beaten."

Before she could react, Vindex scooped up his sword whilst concentrating hard, envisioning where he wanted to end up. Before he knew it, Mevia's face disappeared in a flash of sparks.

Suddenly, Vindex found himself kneeling next to Lukas, who jumped back with an incoherent yell. Petra reflexively whirled, sword in hand, before her eyes landed on his. Reuben, on the other hand, squealed and ran towards Vindex. He scooped the pig up, careful not to get any blood onto the pig.

_10…9…_

"Ten seconds!" Vindex yelled.

_8… 7…_

Lukas shook his head in befuddlement. "How-"

Vindex shoved him into the portal.

_6…5… _

"You better explain-!" Petra was promptly shoved in too.

_4…3…_

"We'll find you, Vindex! _We'll find you! DO YOU HEAR ME?_"

Mevia. Awesome. Don't care.

_2…_

Vindex jumped. The void-like End disappeared as his head submerged under the portal, sending him through the physics-defying wormhole that was thrusting him through space and time. He squeezed his eyes shut, wondering how much the Overworld had changed since he had been there.

In his arms, Reuben snuffled, snorting. Vindex couldn't help but hold the pig tightly to his chest, his mind whirling.

Whatever happened next, at least he knew his friends would be on the other side.

_1._

* * *

**A/N You have all been blessed with another update!**

**Wow...that was _by far_ the longest chapter I had written (3,994 words, excluding the A/N). Mostly because I planned how the scene would go in my head even _before_ writing the beginning part.**

**Man, that was...that hard. Some action-packed sequence, some blood...**

**And welcome, Mevia, to the story!**

**Take a guess as to who Vindex is, although some of you _should_ be able to guess if you are perceptive.**

**Oh, and are you ready to have your heart torn apart next chapter?**

**Review, review, review!**


	10. Confrontation (Loss)

**Review Reply:**

**Lucysnuffle: HmmMMMM, yeah, I suppose they are / Feel free to scream all you want after this chapter.**

**Everyone's about to hate me for what I'm going to do next.**

* * *

Vindex lifted his head, his entire world spinning around him. Dizzily, he noted the stone blocks, the cloudy sky, and the hanging sculpture of the Order's amulet-

_The Order's amulet!_

Vindex jerked, trying to sit up, but pain immediately coursed through his body at his abrupt movement. He hissed, holding his chest. Underneath the ripped armor, he could feel his enhanced health at work, stitching up his wounds, albeit more slowly than usual. He decided to content himself with scanning the area whilst sitting.

It appeared that they had landed on a platform of stone bricks. Columns towered overhead, holding up the impressive stone dome, except for a huge chunk, which had been blown up, revealing the cloudy sky. Vindex could see the top of a glass sculpture of what he deduced was the Order's amulet.

Vindex glanced around. Lukas was on his knees, his expression dazed as he took in the impressively-massive building. Petra was already standing, sword in hand, and looking as though she would _very_ much like to strangle him.

She stormed up to him, snarling. "Don't _do_ that."

Vindex calmed his emotions down. He didn't exactly _fear_ Petra; he knew he could take her on and win in a fight, but he'd rather it _not_ come to that point. "Do what, exactly? Teleport, or push you in a portal?"

Petra threw her arms into the air, the sword coming dangerously close to slitting Vindex's throat. "Both!"

Vindex carefully eased himself into a meditative sitting posture, raising an eyebrow at Petra, once again donning the mask of cool indifference. "Well, I can't really help you with the not-teleporting part," he pointed out, flexing his hand. He could feel his cuts easing up, almost completely healed. "Unless you have enchanted chains to restrict my ability-"

"Arrgh!" Petra threw her hands back into the air again. "You are _insufferable!_"

Vindex raised an eyebrow. He could read some underlying motive why she was acting this way, but before he could say anything, Lukas sat up, still looking dazed and disoriented. Reuben ran, squealing with delight, towards Vindex. Vindex reached out and stroked the pig's head.

"Did you just teleport?" he asked Vindex, rubbing his head. "Like, I didn't _imagine_ that or anything?" Lukas looked like he really wanted Vindex to tell him no, that the blond wasn't going crazy.

Vindex shrugged. "You're fine. To answer your question, yes, I did indeed." Lukas' shoulders sagged with relief before he perked up, narrowing his eyes towards the Ender.

"How?"

Vindex exhaled, lifting his shoulders in a half-shrug. "I'm half-Ender," he explained. "It comes with having the ability to teleport a limited distance."

Lukas goggled at him, practically bug-eyed. "_That_ was a limited distance?"

Vindex shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged. "Enderus can teleport from one end of, well, the End to the other without straining himself. Full-blooded Enders can't teleport as far, but they come _pretty_ close. Compared to their abilities, yes, teleporting from the bottom of a giant staircase to the top is a limited distance."

Lukas had a faraway look in his eyes, as if just _imagining_ the possibilities, but before he could say anything, Petra interrupted. "Why did the portal take us _here_, of all places?" She scowled, kicking at a piece of rubble. "This temple doesn't have the other half to the End Portal."

All the hair on the back of Vindex's neck rose. _She's right._ He's had a gut feeling that something was wrong the moment he landed, but he pushed that away, assuming that they were safe.

_Remember the last time you made an assumption?_

A flash of _her_ eyes, glazed with death, passed through his mind. He silently cursed himself, abruptly standing up.

"Vindex…?" Petra's tone had changed. She was staring at him with wariness.

Vindex grabbed the hilt of the sword Enderus had given him, which was strapped to his back. "Something's wrong."

"Not _wrong_, per say," a voice said smoothly, almost casually. A chill ran down Vindex's spine. He knew that voice. He didn't need to turn to see who it was. He did so anyways.

Teal shirt. Blue jeans. Tan skin. And his eyes. White, glowing eyes, filled with deceiving calm. A darkness that radiated from each pore, a darkness that Vindex has felt and always will feel in every nightmare he's ever had, drowning him in it.

Herobrine grinned wolfishly, his teeth glinting unnaturally in the darkness. "In fact, this…is _perfect_."

* * *

To Petra's credit, she was the first to break out of her shock, lunging towards Herobrine.

Well, if Vindex was honest, he didn't know whether that was _brave_ or _foolhardy_, considering how powerful Herobrine was.

"Ah, sorry, that won't do," Herobrine announced. With a flick of his wrist, Petra began levitating in the air, leaving the redhead shouting and cursing at the white-eyed man. The movement spurred Vindex into action.

As he advanced towards Herobrine, something flashed in his mind: her eyes again, glazed with death and pain, superimposed over Petra's own wide eyes. _No no nonono NO!_

"LET HER GO!"

Both Petra and Lukas started, turning to look at Vindex with confused eyes. Herobrine merely shrugged. "Fine by me." With a forceful gesture, he sent Petra crashing into a bookcase with a jaw-rattling slam. Petra fell limply to the ground, unmoving.

Vindex halted, staring at the unmoving form of his friend. All he was capable of thinking was, _No,_ over and over again. A flash of _her_ body, unmoving, soaked in blood (_blood, there was so much blood_) staining the grass beneath her.

"Petra!" Lukas turned, heat burning in his normally-clear blue eyes. Before he could react, Vindex grabbed the blond's arm, restraining the former Ocelot. "What are you _doing?_" he howled, struggling to break free.

"If we die, then _none_ of us can help Petra," Vindex shot back scathingly. His own blood was boiling, adrenaline pumping through his veins, but he turned to Herobrine, masking his hot rage into cold anger. "_No one_ will die tonight," he snarled.

Herobrine merely tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Ah, but what good are you from preventing deaths?" he jeered. "After all, it didn't help _your sister,_ did it?"

It was as if all the blood had frozen in his veins, locking his joints together. Vindex couldn't move, couldn't breathe. All he could see was her dead body, as well as a katana flashing in the moonlight, slick with her blood.

_Your fault. Always your fault._

Lukas' voice snapped him out of his daze. "Vindex, do you…_know_ him?"

"Know me? Of _course_ he does!" Herobrine laughed. "Brother-in-arms, until the day he, ah…" His smile was still there, but Vindex detected a flash of anger within those glowing eyes. "...betrayed me."

Vindex could _feel_ Lukas' trust in him slipping away. He felt the blond's accusatory stare drilling into his skull. "Were you going to mention this? Or were you planning to hide that you were once all _buddy-buddy_ with the most dangerous deity in the Overworld?"

Vindex glared at Herobrine. "Shut up," he hissed at the white-eyed man, ignoring Lukas' jab.

Herobrine's eyes were wide with mock-innocence. "What, is the great and powerful Vindex still crying over his dead sister?" he mocked.

Vindex brandished his sword. "I'm warning you-"

Herobrine interrupted. "What good are you at _warnings?_ Maybe if you had _warned_ your sister, she would still be alive." He sneered. "Didn't you think of that? Maybe if you had been less of a coward and actually followed through with your own threats, then this world wouldn't be suffering because of _you_."

Vindex glanced at the blond out of the corner of his eye. Lukas' shock transformed into a look of fury, directed at _Vindex_. "So the world has Wither because of _you?_"

Vindex reeled in his fury, transforming the hot rage boiling within him to cold determination. He glanced at Lukas. "How about we settle this _after_ we deal with him?" he offered calmly.

Lukas seemed reluctant, but when he glanced over at Herobrine, his face darkened. "Deal." He pulled out his bow and an arrow.

"You won't be able to save anyone tonight," Herobrine taunted, directed at Vindex. "That's in your nature. When people need you most, you run. How cowardly."

Vindex swallowed, the words stinging. But he had to admit: Herobrine was right. There was no guarantee that any of them would make it out alive.

He looked to the side; Lukas was stringing up his bow, his eyes burning bright with a hatred. Then Vindex let his eyes drift to Reuben; the pig had his face twisted in a snarl, his eyes narrowed towards Herobrine-well, his feet, anyways. Finally, he let his eyes rest on the unconscious Petra.

_Time to stop running_.

Together, the three of them charged towards Herobrine.

* * *

Vindex would be lying if he said everything went smoothly.

On the contrary. In fact, Vindex would've been surprised if it _had_.

Herobrine casually waved his hand, redirecting the arrow mid-air towards Vindex. Vindex slashed through the arrow and lunged, trying to stab the white-eyed man. Herobrine dodged before thrusting his fist out in the shape of the Phoenix Eye.

On instinct, Vindex ducked, letting a stream of fire flow overhead. He formed his hand into a claw and thrust out while simultaneously thrusting with his sword.

Herobrine leapt backwards, his expression of vague curiosity. "A new style of fighting, eh? Well, it's not going to help you!" He charged towards Vindex, a sword forming in his right hand. The blade was _huge_, easily a block long, and very, very sharp. The Ender tried to dodge, but he was too slow.

Vindex hissed as the blade sliced against his chest, leaving a huge gash. Pain seared his flesh and melted his bones. He collapsed to the ground, holding a hand to his gushing cut. _At least it's only my blood._ He raised his eyes to gaze at Herobrine's smirking face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lukas, sitting in a dazed heap on the ground, obviously dealt with by Herobrine. "Let me guess," he ground out through the haze of pain. "Enchanted _and_ a Warlord?"

Herobrine shrugged. "Perks of being an entity." He hoisted his blade up onto his shoulder. "Poor Vindex, always being the guardian, yet always failing at his job." He sneered down at the prone Ender. "How good it did your _sister._"

Vindex still couldn't help but sharply inhale. The scar was still fresh. He saw nothing for a moment except that moonlit night, the bloodstained katanas flashing.

Herobrine was next to his ear now. "Your first mistake," he crooned, "_Formido_."

Vindex couldn't move. He gasped for air. All he could think was, _How does he know?_

The entity pulled away, grinning at Vindex's obviously-stricken expression. "Well, this will be the last mistake-" He raised the sword over his head. "-you'll ever make!"

Vindex stared into those soulless eyes, silently challenging the white-eyed entity to do his worst. He wasn't going to spend his last moments begging for his life; he's caused enough damage as it is.

Besides, he would see her again.

Before Herobrine could bring down the giant blade, he grunted, stumbling off-balance from the weight. Behind him, Vindex could see Lukas lowering his bow, reaching for another arrow.

Most cases, Vindex would've cheered, "_Yes!"_ But all Vindex could think was, _No. Not again!_

Herobrine turned smoldering eyes onto the blond. Lukas physically _shrunk_ away from the white-eyed entity, evidently thinking, _Oh, crap._

"You DARE strike me?" Herobrine roared, the rage thick enough in his voice to swamp Vindex. With a shoving motion, he telekinetically sent Lukas flying.

Something broke in Vindex; a dam that had held all his hot rage. Now, it gushed out, enveloping him in an intoxicating rush. Vindex shot up from his prone position, the pain all but forgotten, and he advanced towards the white-eyed entity, his vision tunneling until all he saw was Herobrine through a haze of red.

A long time ago, Vindex had been trained so that he could keep his technique while he was in a rage. He had never really liked those drills; he _always_ couldn't keep his skill while he was in a rage, which always led to him being thrown to the ground. Repeatedly.

This time, however, something had snapped in him. He was determined to use his rage to fuel his ferocity and technique.

Herobrine's smirk faded slightly, and his eyes widened. He tried to dodge the incoming blade, but Vindex whipped out his hand in a claw and lashed out, striking Herobrine in the chest. Herobrine staggered, trying desperately to regain his balance, but Vindex swept out a foot in a low sweep, knocking the entity to the ground again.

Vindex lunged, his blade poised to strike the entity's heart.

Suddenly, he found himself on the ground, his head spinning from smacking against the ground. He could hear a hollow, metallic _thud_ ring out as he suddenly found wind caressing his face.

Someone gasped. Vindex turned, locking eyes with Petra. She was no worse for wear, apart from apparent bruises that were forming from being thrown into a bookshelf. But her face was drained of color, and Vindex suspected it wasn't because of Herobrine.

"J-Jesse?"

Vindex-Jesse-just looked at her, schooling his face into an emotionless mask. Inwardly, he was cursing himself and the mask from rolling away from his face.

"Hmph. Jesse." Herobrine looked on, mock-disappointment flashing in his eyes. "You were always one to aim for the pathetic ideals when you could've _ruled the world!_ This-" He gestured to Petra and Lukas. "-is a testament to your foolishness."

Jesse looked straight at him, refusing to let his emotions through. "I'm not the foolish one," he said quietly.

Herobrine's face twisted in rage before relaxing, his eyes glinting. "Tell Jessi I sent her my regards," he sneered, before raising his sword again, ready to deal the final blow.

Jesse just stared up at the ruthless face of the entity, barely aware of Petra's cry of "No!" He was ready to accept his fate.

Then Herobrine yowled, careening backwards and letting the sword clatter out of his grip. He twisted just enough for Jesse to see who it was: Reuben!

His little pig had his teeth fastened to Herobrine's leg, anger smoldering in his brown eyes. Herobrine hopped around, cursing.

Maybe Jesse would've been impressed, maybe even proud of Reuben. All Jesse could muster was horror. _No!_ He opened his mouth to scream, to command Reuben to get off, and struggled to his feet, but then Herobrine growled.

"I've had enough of this!" he yelled. With a _poof!_, a sword popped into existence. He kicked the pig away and lunged towards Reuben, his sword flashing.

Everything slowed down. Jesse's heartbeats, his breathing, his movements. All he could do was watch. Everything was muffled, as if underwater. Nothing was working right; nothing was functioning properly. All he could do was watch as the sword cut into _his_ Reuben, _his_ little pig,

_NO!_

It wasn't happening; it couldn't be real. Reuben hadn't been savaged by a blade. He wasn't on the ground, whimpering in pain. His blood wasn't gushing out of the jagged slash, seeping into the stones. No, no, it _wasn't_ real.

It was just a nightmare.

A perpetual nightmare.

"_No!"_

_Her body thumped to the ground, blood flowing from her cuts. He desperately struggled up to her, holding her limp body in his arms. The light of life in her eyes, the light that would always shine whenever she laughed, or smiled… it was gone._

_He could've screamed to the moon, but it wouldn't bring her back._

Jesse was barely aware of anything, barely aware of Petra's scream of horror or of Reuben's (_not real, still not real_) whimpering.

Numbness.

Cold, void numbness.

Then Herobrine's chuckling snapped him out of his daze. "Poor, _poor_ Jesse," he sneered. "Crying over a _pig_, of all things." He sighed mockingly. "How the mighty Defender has fallen."

"You-" Jesse growled jerkily. The amusement on Herobrine's face brought something back to fill the numbness: rage. Cold, hard rage. "-little- _pathetic_-" With that, Jesse began swearing out the white-eyed entity with all his anger poured into his words.

Herobrine merely cocked an eyebrow. "Careful, Jesse," he remarked. "I'd hate to see you fall from being a _hero_."

The mocking tone set Jesse over the edge. With a howl, he flung himself at the man. Suddenly, he found Herobrine's Megasword pointed at his chest. "One more step," Herobrine warned casually, "and I'll slit your throat." To emphasize his point, he raised the blade to Jesse's neck.

Jesse stumbled away, his rage fading into a choked sob. It was then when reality hit. _Reuben won't make it._ He fell on his knees, cradling Reuben. As if sensing his presence, the pig turned, keening, towards Jesse. "Shh, I'm here, boy," he hushed, tears finally falling freely. "I-I'm here."

In response, Reuben snuffled weakly, leaning in to Jesse's touch. His blood flowed freely on the stones, yet his eyes were calm, almost as if to say, _I protected you._

"Think on what _you've_ done," Herobrine taunted. "_This_ is your punishment."

With a flash, he was gone.

Though Petra yelled angrily, Jesse lowered his head. Guilt swarmed him, eating him until he felt empty. Void. Incapable of ever being happy again.

_This is what I've done_.

Reuben whined, trying to sit up, but failing. Jesse pressed a soft hand to the young pig's forehead, his shoulders shaking as he tried to suppress the sobs welling up in his throat. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you…"

He could _feel_ the pig's life force draining away. "I'm sorry," Jesse whispered thickly.

With one last breath, the pig's eyes closed. He laid still and silent, as motionless as the ground.

Then he poofed, leaving nothing but a lone porkchop.

That's when the dam broke. Jesse tried desperately to keep the sobs from forming, but they burst out of his chest. He's barely aware of Petra cradling his shoulders in a half-hug. Rain began pouring down from the sky, as if it just realized what atrocity Herobrine has committed and was now mourning along with the young hero.

All Jesse could think was, _What have I done?_

* * *

**A/N You can scream at me now.**

**All I am capable of saying is sorry.**

**Sorry for putting Jesse through this, sorry for doing this to y'all.**

**But every loss comes with something that leaves a hero grieving...or vengeful.**

**You will have to see which will Jesse come out to be.**

**Review, I guess. If you want to scream at me. Or the sky. Or weep.**


	11. Vows

**Review Replies:**

**idontwritetoomuch: Yeah...poor Jesse / Yep, five months, to be exact / It's kinda sad irony, really :( / Thanks; I wasn't really sure on the emotional part, tbh**

**Lucysnuffle: That, I felt, was kind of an underreaction XP I'm just curious, was it really not that emotional? Or were you just trying to state the irony? 'Cause (see below) I'm not very good with emotional factors**

**So. This chapter is shorter than usual.**

**But WOO! Officially at 10 chapters! (The prologue doesn't count XP)**

**WARNING! Self-blame/hate up ahead; do not read if you're particularly sensitive to that**

**If not, well then, continue on...**

* * *

For Petra, the shock was wearing off.

Surprisingly, it only took her 45 minutes to _finally_ accept the fact that it was _Jesse_, of all people, who was currently staring, eyes empty, at the darkening sky's horizon.

He was…definitely different now. Just like in her dream, the right side of his face was completely black, with a socket and a glowing purple iris to complete the Ender aesthetic. He was a _lot_ more lean and muscular, less chubby. The way he held himself was terrifying, almost as if to say, _You cannot beat me._

Though if Petra were to _really_ say where he changed, it wouldn't be his physicality; no, it was his eyes.

His eyes held some deep, dark pain, something that had been broken inside which couldn't be fixed. The look of a soldier, wounded in battle, who cannot cope with what he's seen on the battlefield. Broken glass, fractured repeatedly, and it was all he could do not to break down into pieces on the floor.

_That's_ what scared her.

The once-innocent look of glee that had pranced in his eyes was now…_gone_. Vanished, as if it never had been there. In their place was the haunted gaze of someone who carried far too heavy of a burden that normal people couldn't. In the place of happiness was dark anger and guilt, in the place of life was death.

And it nearly broke her.

Once she collected herself, and once the shock wore off, sorrow surged like a tidal wave within her. _Reuben._

Granted, she hadn't really given the little pig too much though before, but now that she thought about it, _he_ was the reason that she continually got up in the mornings. _He_ was a living reminder of Jesse; even when she thought he was dead, _Reuben_ reminded her of him, what he would've _wanted_ them to do, and that always spurred her on, even when everyone else fell away.

And, she had to admit, the _adorable_ little pig grew on her.

Now, she got Jesse back. But at what cost?

If she was taking this so very hard, she couldn't begin to _imagine_ what Jesse was going through. For _months_, everyone thought he was dead. Then, out of the blue, he suddenly reappears into their lives (granted, a little subtly), and was with them.

Just as suddenly, just as Petra got him back, _Reuben_ dies. Jesse's best friend. His _loyal_ friend.

Petra suddenly became angry, yet knowing irrationally so. _Why_ didn't Jesse try to contact them, after all this time? _Why_ couldn't he have at _least_ sent them a letter, telling him he was alive? _Why_ didn't he come back? Didn't he know that she-_they_ needed him?

Part of her wanted to scream at him, berate him for everything he did wrong-from letting them assume he was dead to not contacting them. But, looking at him, her anger faded away.

He didn't deserve it.

When his sobs died down, Jesse pulled away from her, suddenly becoming cold. His face was so scarily _blank_ that it was impossible to tell what he was feeling. He was in this position for a long time, staring listlessly out to where the sunset should've been.

Only his eyes held traces of emotion. Anger, pain, grief, guilt, all demolishing the glass within his remaining gray eye.

Fractured.

Broken.

Shattered.

With no way to fix it, at least not on her own.

"You shouldn't be out here."

Jesse didn't respond for a long while. Petra almost thought he didn't hear her when he spoke. "Do you know how I was called 'Vindex'?"

Petra waited, letting him say what he had to say.

"It meant 'Defender' in the old language." Jesse chuckled hollowly. "Much good how it meant, considering I couldn't save _my pig!_"

Petra's breath caught in her throat. It _hurt_ her to see her best friend like this, shattering ever so slowly.

Jesse turned to face her, his eyes oddly blank as he regarded her, almost detachedly. "Maybe you were better off without me," he mumbled, half to himself. "Then maybe…" He trailed off.

"Jesse," the redhead pleaded, stepping forward. "Please, this isn't your fault."

Jesse shot to his feet, his eyes blazing, taking her aback. She had _never_ seen him like this. Normally, he was full of happiness, warmth, and mirth.

This Jesse…this Jesse carried a sorrowful, cold, humorless aura. He took a step forward, staring at her incredulously. Petra found herself taking a step back.

_By Notch, what happened to him?_

"Not my fault?" he repeated. His voice rose. "Not my fault?!" His hand clenched into a fist. "Of _course_ it's my fault, Petra! _I_ was the one who decided to let him take over the world! _I_ was the one who sat to the side and watched people come to us, _begging_ for help! By Notch, Petra, I was a coward! And what did I do when you guys came back? I kept hiding behind my _mask_-" He thrust his helmet under her nose for emphasis. "-in the hopes that you wouldn't see me again!"

His piece said, Jesse flung his helmet to the side and twisted, punching his fist into the nearest pillar. The entire structure actually _shook_ under his force. He stood there, panting, rain continuously coursing down his face. Even then, Petra could see the tears streaming down his cheeks, mingling with the rainwater.

Sorrow struck Petra like an arrow. Her heart twisted, seeing that Jesse was blaming himself for problems that he had no control over.

"And thanks to my cowardice, Reuben-he-" Jesse choked, sliding down onto his knees. "I never got to say goodbye." He buried his face into his hands. "If I was stronger, braver, tougher, maybe I wouldn't _need_ to say goodbye to him."

Petra knelt by the grieving male, wrapping a hand around his shoulders. She felt him stiffen at the contact before melting, leaning into the half-hug. She was getting soaked from being outside, but she didn't care; nothing mattered except for the mourning boy.

"Why didn't you want to reveal yourself to us?"

Jesse was silent for a long moment. Petra almost thought he either didn't hear or was deliberately ignoring her when he admitted, "I…I thought that you were better off…without me."

Petra pulled away, shocked at his admittance. Jesse kept his head ducked, not meeting her eyes. "What are you talking about?" she demanded. "We _need_ you."

Jesse shrugged. "You have other friends," he pointed out dully. "You could cope. Besides, why would you want to be with me? I'm nothing but a failure. I've failed to save the people I cared about most before." He raised his eyes to hers. The look in his eyes broke her heart.

"No," she said fiercely, wrapping him in her arms. "No, you'll _never_ be a failure. It was Herobrine who killed Reuben."

"Herobrine." For the first time, Petra heard Jesse's rage directed at someone else. It satisfied her, knowing that he wasn't angry with himself. "He's killed my sister and Reuben. He's taken everything from me." His hand tightened into a fist before he relaxed, meeting her gaze with an icy expression that sent chills down her spine. "I'll do whatever it takes to kill him."

Petra tightened her grip on him. Jesse's been through too much: he's nearly _died_ and found that he was an Ender Hybrid. He's had some past with Herobrine that involved the death of his own sister; he had never mentioned it before, but Petra assumed that it was because the memory was too painful.

Jesse buried his face into her shoulder. That seemed to be the moment when she broke; when Jesse was so…_vulnerable_. She gave in to the urge to circle her other arm around his shoulders.

That moment, in the rain, Petra made her own vow: she was never going to lose Jesse ever again.

At the thought, her arms involuntarily tightened around the boy.

_No matter what._

* * *

**A/N Annd we see a self-blaming Jesse.**

**Much of Jesse's feelings actually stem from my own at different times (I'm not depressed or anything), so it's really easy to write what he feels most of the time. **

**Jesse's definitely changed. And not for the better.**

**Now, something to note about me (if you've read _A Children's Story_, this is similar) that I didn't add in the last chapter because of the somber mood. I'm physically incapable of becoming emotionally attached to a character and/or crying when (s)he die. Idk why; I just _can't_. So if you see me doubting the emotional factors in different chapters, that's why. Especially because of a statement that I saw somewhere on a profile: "If the author doesn't cry, the reader can't cry." But because I _literally_ can't cry, I'm constantly doubting whether or not it's cry-worthy material.**

**So...reviews are extremely helpful. Partially because they make me happy and help motivate me to get a chapter done faster since people are interested!**


	12. Refuge (Danger)

**Review Replies:**

**Lucysnuffle: Yeah, I s'pose they are lol. If you can't tell, I'm a bit of a Jetra shipper, but for this story I'm aiming for a more platonic approach, so try not to ship it if you can ;) / No no, you're good! I love wry humor, it's just when it's written out, I really can't tell**

**idontwritetoomuch: Wow, I never really thought that it was really that impactful. Maybe it's 'cause I'm the one writing it lol / Yeah, no, I gotcha ;) Thanks!**

**WARNING! Angst up ahead!**

* * *

"So Herobrine'll be after us?" Lukas asked again for the millionth time.

Petra sighed, face-palming. "For the last time, _yes_, Lukas!"

Lukas leaned back onto the wall where the head of his bed was against. "I was just making sure."

Jesse was sitting on his own bed, and he leaned forward, wincing internally as pain flared in his chest. Petra, surprisingly, had been able to bandage up the worst of it, but it still hurts every time he breathed or made the tiniest movement. Most other people probably would've been worried; Jesse, having endured worse, was merely annoyed, but he was grateful all the same towards Petra.

"Which means we aren't safe," Jesse supplied. Both Lukas' and Petra's heads snapped towards him when he spoke. "Herobrine's greatest weapon is his determination; he'll stop at nothing to find us."

_Which means we have to move, and quickly._ The statement was left unsaid, and yet it was as clear to everyone as if it had been spoken aloud.

Lukas looked disturbed and confused. "But wouldn't he be able to find us in the snap of his fingers?"

Jesse shook his head, though he distantly noted the risk in answering the question. "That's what all the legends misportray. Herobrine may be powerful, but he's not omniscient. He doesn't know where we are at any given time. If he had been, he'd-" Realizing far too late that he got carried away, Jesse clamped his jaw, the rest of his response dying on his tongue.

Luckily, Petra and Lukas didn't seem to notice his abrupt cut-off since Lukas already launched another question: "But then how was he able to find us?"

"He's still powerful enough to track down when people use portals." At their confused looks, Jesse sighed. "Portals discharge a large amount of energy, which Herobrine is sensitive enough to notice. He can also make out who the users are, and he's powerful enough to manipulate portals, so he was able to pull us off-track from where we _should've_ been."

Lukas looked disconcerted. Petra, however, had a thoughtful look in her eyes. "So that leaves taking portals to the Nether out of the question," she muttered.

Jesse nodded, trying his hardest to recall his memories of the white-eyed deity. All he really discovered about Herobrine during his time as a Warlord was that the entity's dominant traits were _especially_ bloodthirst, cruelness, and no mercy towards his enemies. If Herobrine was going against someone, _boom!_ They were dead, just like that.

What _especially_ sickened him was that if the victim was particularly pitiful, for lack of a better term, Herobrine would relish in their begging for mercy before ending them.

Herobrine was always so _confident_ in his abilities, cocky enough to assume that he could deal with anything that could be thrown at him. And Jesse couldn't blame him: as an entity that was pretty powerful, his arrogance wasn't unfounded.

And yet…

Jesse had a nagging feeling that this arrogance, rather than being the source of Herobrine's strength, was his greatest weakness. Herobrine certainly didn't _act_ weak.

But how can one tell when the former too busy trying to kill them?

Back then, Jesse wasn't aware of Herobrine's capabilities, but now he was. Spending time with Enderus has _really_ opened up Jesse's mind; he was now aware of any magical means of, well, _anything_, and how Herobrine can exploit it for his own gain.

As if resurfacing from underwater, the sound of Lukas' and Petra's debate on where to go sharpened in his ears. "There's _no way_ we can travel by foot," Lukas argued heatedly. "_Anybody_ could see us coming and going from a mile away!"

"That's the only option we have!" Petra's voice rose agitatedly; he should be really worried, Jesse reflected, if _Petra_ of all people was losing her cool. Yet for some reason, he wasn't; perhaps it was his time with Enderus, where he's trained rigorously to detach himself from his emotions and plan logically.

"Why's traveling by foot the only option?" Jesse interjected the minute there was a lull in the argument.

Petra peered at him, a flash of annoyance crossing her eyes. "Weren't you listening?"

Jesse could feel Lukas' curious gaze boring into the back of his head, but he firmly kept his gaze on the redhead. "I was…thinking," he admitted sheepishly.

"About…?"

Jesse shifted his gaze to that _lovely_ bookcase behind the redhead, just slightly peeking out behind her. "Nothing important."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Petra open her mouth, looking suspicious, and he hurriedly stalled her, asking again, "So why can we only travel by foot?"

Petra snapped her mouth shut, still gazing at him suspiciously. Jesse forced himself to stare at her in the eye, smoothing his face into an unreadable mask. _Don't look away,_ he reminded himself. _You look away, she knows something's up._

Finally, Petra sighed, breaking eye contact. "We can't go by railroad tracks," she muttered, "because there's no way there-"

"I'm sorry, _where_?"

Petra flashed him an annoyed look. Before she could respond, Lukas beat her to it. "Sky City." His mouth twisted into a grim smile. "They say it's the last untouched city of the plague."

Jesse blinked, frowning. He glanced up at them. "But Enderus says that every city has been infected, ravaged."

Lukas nodded. "Yeah, except Sky City is, literally, a city in the clouds. They say it's so high in the mountains and so cold that no plague can survive."

Jesse hesitated. If that were true…then he'd probably be unwelcome there. Then again, since the source of his sickness was…removed, it might be safe enough for him to enter the city and not spread the disease. And there's always the chance that the cold could burn it out of him.

Though if he knew Herobrine, then he knows that the white-eyed entity would have something else up his sleeve. Herobrine would find a way. He _always_ found a way.

And there was another question nagging him due to this new development.

"Why didn't you guys go there the first chance you got?" Jesse asked.

Petra gave him the most unimpressed look he had ever seen come across her face.

"What?"

"Don't you remember what you said to us, before you ran back into the building?" There was a note of accusation that Jesse could make out. The underlying message was clear: _Before you abandoned us?_

Jesse swallowed his guilt and thought hard, casting his memory back to what felt like a lifetime ago when it was only five months ago. He dimly remembered handing - shoving, actually - an amulet in Lukas' hands. But what he _said_ was out of his memory, forgotten.

"Err…"

Petra sighed, rubbing her head. "You said -"

"- 'Take it,' " Lukas interjected. " 'You heard Gabriel. Get out of here, and go through the Nether.' "

"And what _Gabriel_ had said," Petra added, "was to reunite the Order. Technically, since you _told_ us to follow Gabriel's orders, we _had_ to follow them."

Jesse was…astounded, to say the least. He glanced at the both of them, the redhead who would never back down from a fight, and the formerly-arrogant blond builder who had gone along with Jesse's friends, despite the known hostility between them and the Ocelots. _They've done so much for you,_ a voice accused in the back of his head. _And what did you do? You abandoned them!_

_Coward._

Jesse shifted uncomfortably on the bed, suddenly finding it hard to meet their eyes. "You didn't have to," he muttered. "You could've fled to Sky City…You didn't have to do this…"

Petra sighed exasperatedly. "Jesse, you are officially _the_ most daft person in the world, and, trust me, I know a lot of daft people."

Lukas was at his side now, and the blond put a calming hand on his shoulder. "Jesse, we wouldn't abandon something you've entrusted us with. And coming from your former rival," he added with a twisted smile, "that's saying a lot."

Jesse let out a reluctant chuckle at Lukas' wry comment. Even then, he marveled at their dedication. They were willing to go to the ends of, well, the End, and revoke their ability to save themselves…for him?

But what has he done for them?

Nothing.

"So," Jesse began, shaking off his dark thoughts. Even then, he could feel them probing the edge of his mind, waiting for a moment to be let in again. "We can't take portals or railroads. The best we could probably do is…" He closed his eyes, visualizing the possibilities laid out in front of him. The most _practical_, per say, stuck out to him. "We could take some horses to the mountain ranges and then climb up the mountain by foot."

When he opened his eyes again, Jesse noted that Petra was studying him with the most peculiar expression on her face, as if she saw him in a new light, and she wasn't sure whether or not she liked it.

Finally, Lukas nodded, looking relieved at having _finally_ made a decision. "That sounds practical."

Petra sighed, nodding. "Yeah, it seems so." Once again, she glanced at him appraisingly, as if wondering how he had changed over the course of a mere five months.

_I haven't,_ Jesse thought grimly.

_I've just hidden it very well._

* * *

It took them two weeks to make it to the mountain range. It wasn't easy: they had once stopped by a village for the night, looking for a place to stay; turns out, it was infested with zombies. Another time, they _accidentally_ stopped by a witch's hut in a swamp; Lukas and Petra were arguing whose fault it was for _days_. More often than not, they ended up abandoning camp when the Withereds and normal mobs showed up.

Amidst trials and tribulation, they managed to make it to the mountain ranges.

Jesse dismounted, his feet slamming into the ground. He gazed up at the mountain, assessing how high it was. The peaks seemed to stretch on endlessly, disappearing into the clouds.

Lukas dismounted and walked up to stand beside Jesse, staring up at the mountains with an awed look on his face. "Wow," he breathed.

Petra sauntered up to them, casually keeping one hand on the hilt of her sword, which was strapped to her side. "I've never been this far," she admitted. She glanced over at Jesse. "Have you?"

Though her voice sounded casual, Jesse didn't miss the way her eyes flashed, nor how her hand tightened slightly on the hilt of her sword. Jesse chose to respond carefully. "Not really. Enderus did take me places where the mountain ranges were more…prominent, but we never went _up_ the mountains."

"I see," Petra answered, her voice level.

Lukas was staring around in awe, apparently oblivious to the tension between Jesse and Petra. "This is amazing," he breathed. Jesse smiled, feeling happy for his newfound friend. It was as if Lukas hasn't been through virtual death for the last five months. He sounded…carefree, for the first time since Jesse's seen him.

Petra apparently agreed. Her features softened. She released the hand she had on the hilt of her sword and stepped up, looping an arm around Lukas' shoulders. Jesse noticed Lukas stiffen slightly, as if not expecting it, before relaxing. "It is," Petra agreed quietly.

Jesse watched them, sorrow surging in his chest. This plague has taken too much from them; they only had each other to get them through this tough time. Even though they were forced apart, at least they knew the other was alive. It just made Jesse wonder, with a stab to his heart, how much he had truly missed.

It suddenly hit him how much he _missed_ having such a close relationship with them. But that was when he was just Jesse. Not Formido, not Vindex. That was _before_ the plague.

There was no way to get back what they once had.

Petra glanced back at him, her features shining with concern. Jesse must've let his mask slip for one second. He cursed inwardly. One second of showing weakness was a second too much.

"Jesse?" Petra walked towards him, releasing her arm from Lukas' shoulders and slipping her hand into his. He breathed sharply. The mere contact sent electricity tingling down his spine. He hasn't had human contact . . . in a long, long time.

"Are you alright?" the redhead asked. Jesse took a moment to collect his thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lukas staring back at him, concern etched on his face.

Jesse slipped his hand out of Petra's, taking to avoiding her eyes. _She looks, she'll know._ "I'm fine," he dismissed tonelessly.

He could feel Petra's stare boring into the back of his head, and he braced himself for backlash, but Petra just quietly responded, "Okay."

The meaning and sharp undertone was clear: _We'll talk about this later._

Jesse sighed, strolling until he was beside Lukas. He looked at the blond, feeling a wry smile twisting on his face.

"You ready to climb a snowy mountain?"

* * *

Compared to the ride to the mountains, the climb was fairly uneventful.

Jesse has long lost count of the number of hours that it took them to get this high. Thankfully, they were _almost_ to the top. Unfortunately, their way was covered by snow. Tons and tons of snow.

It was less of the threat of mobs and more of the fact that one slip, one misstep, could send them plummeting to their deaths. So here they were, trekking ever carefully over the rough terrain.

Oh, and it started snowing.

Did he mention how uneventful it was?

That is, until Petra decided to confront Jesse with the dreaded question.

Lukas was far enough ahead that Petra fell in-step with Jesse. "You know, I've never been this far in our world," she began. She sounded casual enough, but alarm bells immediately rang in Jesse's head. She glanced at him, her light-gray eyes piercing his. "I'm surprised that Enderus didn't take you out of the End that often."

Jesse could immediately see where this was headed, but he decided to play along for now. "I suppose so," he said lightly. "The times he did, we were mostly on the _other_ side of the mountain ranges."

"And yet," Petra inquired, "you couldn't find time to visit us?"

Jesse flinched, a stab of guilt going through his heart. Instead of being deterred, Petra continued to press on with her accusations. "After all this time, you were _alive._ You could've came and visited us, but you didn't! You didn't even _let_ us know you were alive! Do you know how that felt, believing you were dead _every second_ of _every day?!_"

Each sentence hurled at him made the guilt press down on his chest until Jesse felt as if he were suffocating. By Notch, he knew everything was true; he knew that Petra had the right to be angry with him. Still, it didn't help his rising temper. "Well, maybe I had other affairs to take care of," Jesse responded, his voice colder than he meant.

" '_Other affairs'_? Yeah, right." Petra got into his face and jabbed her finger into his chest. "You're just making excuses for why you couldn't visit us."

"So what if I am?" Jesse retorted, knocking aside her hand. Unlike her hot words, Jesse dimly noted, his were cool and level, a contrast to his boiling rage. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I _have_ been trying to avoid you and everyone else. Do you want to know why?"

Petra was looking mutinous. She opened her mouth, but at this point Jesse felt his rage boiling over. All the bottled, silent suffering burst out of his mouth, for the first time sounding heated: "Because I thought that you would be better off without me! Because everywhere I go, I only bring destruction and havoc and mourning! Notch, Petra, I'm a _Warlord!_ All I was ever good for was killing! I'm a murderer! I went up against Herobrine, my sister _died_ because I was too cowardly to face him! So maybe, if I was never in your lives in the first place, NO ONE ELSE WOULD DIE!"

The resounding silence might as well have been a deafening scream. Petra was staring at him, shock etched on her face. Nearby, Lukas had stopped, staring at Jesse with utter confusion and - Jesse was sure - fear. Petra opened her mouth, but Jesse growled, "Forget it. Look where it got -" For a moment, Jesse choked on a half-sob, the image of Reuben's dead body flashing in his eyelids. He turned away, eyes squeezed shut because he _will not cry._

"Jesse," Petra began, her voice uncertain, but before she could say anything, the ground began rumbling.

Lukas' head snapped up, frowning. "Did you guys hear that?" he asked cautiously.

"More like felt it," Petra grumbled, but there was none of the usual heat in her voice. Jesse frowned, feeling the ground tremble again. By instinct, his head shot up, and he stared in horror at the tidal wave of snow that was crashing towards them.

"AVALANCHE!" Jesse lunged towards Lukas, but it was too late. With an ear-shattering roar, the snow swept them off their feet, and the half-Ender found himself plummeting towards the ground.

_No!_

Jesse, on instinct, reached forward, groping wildly for something, _anything_, that belonged to his friends. His hand closed on someone's wrist.

By then, the snow petered out, leaving Lukas' wild face staring at him. Jesse glanced down. His stomach dropped in horror. There was Petra, her face twisted in shock as she flailed uselessly against the forces of gravity.

All panic left Jesse's mind, leaving him in a state of eerie calm. He didn't have to _think_; he just has to act.

He twisted his body into an arrow and focused on Petra, letting the gravity pull him towards her. Thanks to his sudden aerodynamacy, he plummeted faster towards the redhead, ignoring Lukas' screeches of panic.

_Almost. . . almost. . ._

He flung his right arm out, catching Petra by her arm. Petra stared up at him, fearful, as the wind whistled in their ears.

_Concentrate._

Jesse focused on the highest point on the mountain, which was becoming increasingly difficult, what with the peaks disappearing rapidly.

_Concentrate!_

The peaks became nothing more than mere points that disappeared into the clouds. Jesse swore he saw the points of the trees jutting up in the peripheral of his vision. Unbidden, he began panicking.

_CONCENTRATE!_

Enderus' shouted command left all panic fleeing his mind. He willed his eyes to focus on a ledge that was _just_ there. Once his gaze was focused, he willed, with every fiber of his being, to _teleport._

Just as Petra and Lukas let out a shout of panic, they suddenly landed on hard surface.

Jesse's mind was sluggish. Weren't they falling? And they probably were, from a huge height. Shouldn't they be dead right now?

Every muscle screamed in his body, every nerve on fire from the ache of being pushed to their utmost limit. Jesse lifted his head to see Petra and Lukas getting to their feet, looking around in wonder.

They were alive. Good. That. . .that was good.

Something was vaguely nagging Jesse, but he was too tired to remember. It was. . . Enderus, maybe? He was. . . warning Jesse about something.

Petra was shaking him. No, let him sleep. He was so tired. Why was she looking panicked? Did something happen? Notch, were there mobs?

At the thought, Jesse tried to get up, but his head started spinning so rapidly that he couldn't tell which direction was what.

Then, his eyesight failed him.

He was left blind for a few moments, groping uselessly around, before his senses shut down completely.

* * *

**A/N I liiiive!**

**Sorry, guys, I had a hard time continuing with this chapter. It was. . . rough, but I finally managed to complete it!**

**Jesse. . . the poor guy needs some love some time.**

**Anyways, it's late by my standards, and I'm tired. See ya!**

* * *

**EDIT 11/06/19: So, I left out some stuff that should probably be addressed.**

**I've sorta lost the will for this story. I've no doubt that my imagination would bounce back, but I was suffering slightly, putting this story on the back shelf. Your support is greatly appreciated, but I think I need some time since I've become slightly unfamiliar with this story. Sure, I've got all the other chapters' main plots planned out, but the littler details of each plot has faded away in my mind, as has the emotions.**

**Don't worry, this isn't saying I'm quitting or anything. I just need to recollect myself.**

**Once again, thanks for sticking with this story, and I'll try to get out the next chapter ASAP! With quality, of course ;)**


	13. (Forbidden) Outsiders

**Review Replies:**

***Crickets chirping* Um. So. Yeah.**

**Moving on!**

**WARNING! Mentions of an amputated limb up ahead! Please proceed with caution**

* * *

Lukas panted as he hauled the unconscious Jesse, whose right arm was flung over the blond's shoulder, through the snow. To him, it seemed as though Jesse's right arm was unnaturally cold, but Lukas shoved the strange thought aside. On the other side of their unconscious friend, Petra had Jesse's other arm flung over her shoulders. Together, they struggled through the snow-ridden path.

Lukas glanced over at the redhead. Petra's face was pale, her eyes darting over to Jesse's still body. The longer he looked, Lukas could make out how pale Jesse's face was. His head lolled against his chest. Sweat was pouring down his forehead. From time to time, he shivered, though Lukas guessed it wasn't from the cold.

After getting over the fact that they _teleported_ back to safety, Lukas looked over to see Jesse practically collapsing and promptly blacking out. After trying in vain to wake the young man, they began dragging him hurriedly (or as much as possible, given the circumstances). Petra seemed particularly anxious to get moving again.

Lukas couldn't blame her; Jesse seem barely alive. His pulse was so faint, only Petra was able to tell from years of experience.

At first, when it hit that Jesse could teleport, Lukas had been spending the entirety of the horse ride contemplating why Jesse hadn't decided to just teleport them to Sky City. He _almost_ spoke up and asked about it, but he mentally talked himself out of it. He reasoned if Jesse didn't bring it up, then it must be for a reason.

Now, Lukas understood; Jesse's range _must_ be limited. Otherwise, he wouldn't have passed out cold. Lukas felt slightly ashamed of himself. Truth to be told, the treacherous thought slipped in that Jesse. . . didn't care enough to do something to get them to safety. That he didn't care enough to show that he was alive, so he must not care. Right?

Oh, how wrong he realized he was.

"We have to hurry," Petra hissed again for what Lukas counted was the millionth time in just 30 minutes.

"You _said_ that not even a minute ago," Lukas pointed out long-sufferingly.

Petra glared at him, which effectively shut him up.

And they continued on.

* * *

"Halt! Who goes there?"

Lukas looked up blearily, only to jump backwards when he registered an iron blade poised in his face.

The action yanked Jesse's arm back with him, and the young man jolted as his arm nearly came out of his socket. Then Lukas promptly slipped and fell with a yell. Petra, surprised, followed his momentum and ended up on the ground with a flustered Lukas and a still-unconscious Jesse.

Then Jesse groaned slightly. _At least he's still alive,_ Lukas thought grimly.

In front of them, the guard was staring at the three as if they'd dropped from the sky. Which they _technically_ have.

Apparently shaking off his confusion, he pointed his sword a little too closely at Lukas' face again. "Who are you?"

Lukas took a moment to survey his surroundings. The man in front of him wore a uniform akin to a royal guard. He had surprisingly tan skin and a thick mustache, which was currently twitching as he leveled the sword under Lukas' chin.

After giving up on keeping the point in his line of vision, Lukas looked past the guard. A huge city gate towered over them, outlined in gold and bars of silver. On each side, a guard was positioned in front. Beyond, Lukas could _just_ make out the outline of a huge dome of iron and gold.

As grand as Lukas pictured Sky City, the actuality of it reduced his vision to a poor village. Lukas marveled at the wonders of gold and other precious metals and gems, the breath-stealing craftsmanship and maisonry. He dimly wondered where the city found all those resources, being so high in the mountains.

Unfortunately, the brittle coldness and sharpness of the metal against his skin brought him back to reality, when he remembered the guard.

The guard's eyes were now creased with impatience. "Are you deaf?" he snarled. "Or are you just stupid?"

Lukas opened his mouth, ready to answer, when Petra snapped back, "Our friend is _dying_, and you're asking us for our _names?_ Who do you think you are?"

Immediately, Lukas wish Petra hadn't been so brash. The guard _certainly_ looked ticked off now.

The guard drew himself up to his full height and declared, "I am the captain of the Royal Guard. By the authority of the Founder, I _order_ you to tell me who you are!"

Lukas saw that his own confusion was reflected in Petra's eyes. _Founder?_ As far as Lukas knew from the books, Sky City doesn't have a _mayor,_ much less a founder..

"What is going on here?" a new voice said from behind the three guards startled them into turning. The captain scooted away just enough for Lukas to get a good look at the newcomer.

The newcomer was a woman with straight black hair and a band around her head. She wore golden robes over a black shirt, with a white belt keeping the robes together. Lukas felt a shiver go down his spine. The woman held herself in a way that radiated authority, maybe even royalty. Flanking her were more of those guards, and Lukas immediately knew that _she_ must be the Founder.

She frowned at the captain, who immediately bowed to her. "My apologies, Founder, but I found these -" He gestured at Lukas, Jesse, and Petra. "- outsiders approaching the gates."

The Founder frowned at them. "And who might you be?"

_Finally_, Lukas' voice came back to him. He cleared his throat. "My name is Lukas," he introduced politely. "That -" He pointed to Petra. "- is Petra, and our unconscious friend here is Jesse."

Petra opened her mouth, looking suspicious. Lukas forestalled her by hastily blurting out, "We request that you allow us into the city in order to heal our dying friend."

Petra glanced at him, looking surprised, but much to his relief she kept her mouth shut.

The Founder's eyes softened. "Ah. He's wounded." She turned to the guards and briskly commanded to them, "Open the gates."

The guards looked astounded as the captain spluttered, "But - but - Founder!"

"Yes, Reginald?" The Founder raised an eyebrow, waiting for his protest. Lukas mentally filed away this information.

"These - these are outsiders!" Reginald waved his sword towards them, nearly loping off Lukas' head in the process. Lukas tried to subtly scooch away from the captain as the latter continued to gesture wildly. "They may be infected with the Wither Sickness!"

The Founder's expression became stony. "Do you have Wither Sickness?" she inquired, turning to the three.

Petra shook her head. "No." Lukas narrowed his eyes at her. Did he imagine the slight hesitation in her voice?

The Founder turned her eyes onto Lukas. Under her searching gaze, he might as well have shrunk into a mouse. Scratch that, he might as well have been a bug.

"And you?" Lukas shook his head in answer to her question.

The Founder inclined her head towards Jesse, whose skin, Lukas worriedly noted, was beginning to turn blue from the cold. "And him?"

Lukas, again, opened his mouth to respond, but then Petra beat him to it. "No."

Lukas looked over at her, surprised, but quickly interjected, "Not that we know of."

The Founder nodded once before looking over at Reginald, as if challenging him. Reluctantly, Reginald signalled to the guards. "Open the gates."

Lukas breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said, gratitude filling his voice.

Though the Founder didn't smile, her eyes softened, if only slightly. "I'll always help outsiders in need."

Together, the strange party made their way through the snowy town.

* * *

"Aiden, look at this."

"What?" A brown-haired, celery-green-eyed boy turned, inquiringly, towards the last member of his group. Silently, he pointed towards a bizarre procession making its way towards the palace. The celery-eyed boy craned his neck to peer over everyone.

He gasped.

In the middle of the group of guards, of all people, was _Lukas._ Lukas, his former friend who disappeared after the EnderCon bombings. He thought the blond was dead. He had given up, a long time ago, long after Maya died, taken from the sickness.

But he was. . . alive.

_He was alive!_

Dizzily, the boy, Aiden, leant against the wall of a nearby house, seeking support.

"That's not all." The bearded man's voice was grim.

Aiden glanced up at him, confused at his foreboding tone. "What is it?"

"Look who he's with."

Aiden cast his glance over at the two people that Lukas was with. He narrowed his eyes, focusing. . . only to have his eyes pop wide open.

He was walking alongside _Petra._ And, being ferried in between them, was a young man. He looked far different from when Aiden had seen him whether in town or at the EnderCon Building Competition. It was a face that seemed different and far too familiar.

The right of the young man's face was enderman-black (the thought made him shudder) while the left side was pale blue from the cold. Even so, the features were unmistakable.

"Jesse," he voiced aloud. He glanced at the bearded man, whose face was unreadable.

Under the old feeling of fear, a fear he's lived with for the past five months, an inexplicable anger surged within his chest. _Jesse_ took Lukas when he, Gill, and Maya needed him most. Despite butting heads occasionally, Aiden couldn't bear the thought of losing _any_ of them.

Now, Maya was dead, and Lukas comes back into their lives, only to have just up and left them when they needed him most and hang out with those losers.

Yeah, Aiden was mad. No, actually, he was _furious_ at Jesse for taking Lukas. And maybe a little bit at Lukas.

"You're going after them, aren't you." The statement wasn't a question. Aiden glanced at Gill out of the corner of his eye. The bearded man was staring unseeingly at a book in front of him.

"Wouldn't you?"

Gill slowly shook his head. Aiden turned, surprised, to gaze into Gill's tired face. "It's not their fault," Gill insisted.

Aiden shook his head, the anger surging within him again. "By Notch, Gill, Jesse must've somehow _convinced_ Lukas to abandon us! When we needed him most!"

Gill exhaled slowly. "Aiden," he said quietly, "listen to yourself. Jesse's not that type of person. He wouldn't just. . . _steal_ Lukas away just to spite us."

"And how would _you_ know?" Aiden shot back.

Gill was silent for a moment. "Back when we were building against them," he began slowly, "we insulted them, called them so many names. Olivia and Axel would get mad, yes, but Jesse. . . he _never_ yelled at us. Not once." He glanced up at Aiden, soulful brown meeting hardened celery green. "He was never mad. I never _saw_ him mad. Ticked off, yes, but would anybody be if they were insulted?

"If he wasn't spiteful then, what makes you think he's spiteful now?"

Doubt began creeping in Aiden's heart. He _had_ noticed that with Jesse. Back then, he had just assumed that Jesse had been a spineless, meek kid who wouldn't dare fight back because he was afraid.

But now that he thought about it. . . Jesse certainly hadn't _look_ scared. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then Jesse probably didn't fear him, as he once thought. No, his face had looked annoyed, but his eyes were. . . _sad._

For a fleeting moment, sympathy overwhelmed the anger.

Then Aiden glanced out and saw Lukas looking over at Jesse with concern. Anger surged within him again.

"So now you're _defending_ the loser?" Aiden snarled, glaring at Gill. He turned, flinging on his jacket and striding towards the door. "I'm going to give him a piece of my mind, no matter what you say." Despite his words, Aiden paused, wondering if Gill would indeed try to stop him.

"Suit yourself."

Caught off guard, he turned, facing the tired-looking young man. "Wait, you won't stop me?"

"I _can't_ stop you," Gill corrected. He shifted slightly. "It's your choice to make."

Aiden, stunned, found his hands twisting the doorknob and opening up the door. Even as the door swung shut, Aiden could hear Gill mutter, almost to himself, "But it won't bring back Maya."

* * *

Darkness. Complete and utter darkness.

And how cold it was. So, so cold. He felt it deep in his bones. The chill was there, unrelenting, as it covered him, icing him out from the inside.

"_If you teleport outside your known range, you will die."_

Ah. Thanks, Enderus, for the delayed warning.

Ack. The cold. The darkness.

He felt so helpless, so useless.

He hated it.

_But it was the only way to save them!_

Something was shaking him. What was happening? What was going on?

He felt distant, far too gone. No one could save him. They _shouldn't_ save him.

He was a murderer, after all.

Perhaps, against his will, he felt himself drifting towards consciousness. Warmth seeped into his heavy limbs, chasing away the iciness that had taken over.

Awareness began seeping in. He sensed a flurry of activity going on around him, but he didn't want to come back to the world of the living.

_Haven't you caused enough death? Haven't you caused enough trouble?_

But the warmth tugged at him insistently. And he heard them. The calls of his friends, pleading with him to come back.

A soft voice whispered, "_It's not your time yet, my young friend. Your friends need you more than ever."_

With that, he rocketed towards the surface.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he was met with the image of Lukas, who had peered down worriedly at him. His eyes lit up. "You're okay!"

Jesse grimaced, taking in the soreness all over his body. "Yeah, well, 'okay' is relative." He gingerly sat up.

That's when he noticed the woman. The black-haired woman was wearing gold robes tied with a white belt. She radiated confidence and authority. But what was striking was how she was peering at him with a strange expression - a mix of anger and something else. . .

_Fear._

He skimmed over a tense guard, clearly the captain of his troop, and met Petra's eyes. He was startled to find a stoniness in her gaze.

"When were you going to tell us?" she asked, almost tersely.

"What?" Jesse stared at her, his mind blank.

Lukas' relieved face melted into a look of worry. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but he was forestalled by a new voice, the first time Jesse's heard the gold-robed woman speak.

"Your right arm," she pointed out. There was an edge to her voice that made his heart sink.

_So they know._ Jesse glanced down, not at all surprised to see that accursed stump where his metal arm would've been.

Everyone else in the room flinched as Petra smashed her fist into the nearby door frame, her eyes alight with anger. "When were you going to tell us?" she snarled.

Jesse glanced over at Lukas, who was wearing an alarmed expression.

"_When?_" Jesse tore his gaze away from the blond to calmly meet Petra's infuriated gaze, urging her through his eyes to quell her anger.

Before he could reply, there was a _bang._ Together, the two of them looked over at the newcomer. His face transformed from angry determination to shocked fear. As Jesse studied him, a bolt of shock passed through him. He _knew_ this newcomer.

"Aiden." His steely acknowledgement, if anything, made Aiden even more afraid. Celery-green-eyes wide, Aiden turned wildly to the robed woman.

"F-Founder, he - he has - !"

"I deduced that myself, Aiden." Though the robed woman - the Founder - sounded polite enough, Jesse couldn't help but notice how her eyes narrowed slightly and how her fist clenched slightly.

Anger sharpened Aiden's gaze. "If he gets out, he could spread it to the townsfolk!" he _screeched_, causing many to wince. "We need to lock him up!"

Jesse, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, had a good idea what Aiden was talking about.

"It would do well for you to remember that _I_ run this city, not you," the Founder said sharply. "And it could be a mistake. He may not have it at all."

"Not have it?" Disbelief bled into his voice as Aiden stared at the Founder. "Look at his eyes!"

"It would also do you well, apparently, to remember that I am not _blind_, though from the way you're ranting on, that appears to be how you view me." This time, the Founder's voice carried a note of exasperation and a slight hint of anger.

Finally, Aiden seemed to get the message. He bowed his head in submission. "My apologies, Founder." Even so, Jesse couldn't miss the hateful look flashed at him from his former rival.

Though Jesse was slightly pleased that Aiden was put in his place, he couldn't help but feel slightly confused at the boy's apparent hate. Wouldn't he have let this go by now?

Though, based on the intensity of his glare, Jesse suspected it wasn't just about their rivalry anymore.

The Founder fixed him with a stern gaze. "Do you have Wither Sickness?"

Jesse chanced a glance at Petra. The fury has all but fled, leaving her staring, pale-faced, at him. Her eyes pleaded with him to say _no_.

_But that would be lying._

"Well? Do you?"

Jesse opened his mouth, about to say no. . . and hesitated. It was on the tip of his tongue, but another answer popped into his head. One that was far more honest.

"I did," he replied.

The Founder recoiled, probably not expecting that answer. Jesse looked around the room, gauging everyone's reactions. The guards all shrank away from him, swords pointed in his general direction. Petra's face held a hint of anger and a thousandfold times more worry. Lukas was just staring at him, looking shocked into speechlessness.

And Aiden. . .

Aiden's expression was a strange mix of fear. . . and shock.

"You _did_?" the Founder repeated. "It's either you do now or you don't. Which is it?"

Jesse glanced at his feet. "I did."

For a long time, the Founder was silent. Finally, she spoke up, her voice cool. "Guards," she commanded, "take this man into the dungeons."

Jesse heard Petra's yell of protest and Lukas' sharp intake of breath, but he didn't lift his head, didn't protest as the guards hoisted him up and dragged him through the doors and back out into the cold. He didn't make any noise, didn't resist as they pulled him into the dungeons and chained him up.

He glanced up only once through the whole ordeal to see Aiden's eyes glinting with fear.

* * *

**A/N And, with quick succession, we have Reginald, Isa, Aiden, and Gill all appear in this story!**

**Don't worry, Milo's gonna appear veeeerrryyyyy soon.**

**Whew! This story is now a whopping 110 pages in Google Docs! Quite the accomplishment, if you ask me!**

**Guys, please leave a review. It does wonders to encourage me and lets me know whether or not people are still interested in this story.**

**I tried, guys. If this chapter seems slightly choppy compared to the other chapters, it's because I'm not as motivated to do this story. Just know that I'm gonna have my ups and downs whilst getting this story out.**


	14. Questioning (Part I)

**Review Response:**

**idontwritetoomuch: *Crickets chirping* You can probably see that I took your advice. . . hehe. . . (still glad you're still into this though)**

**Aaauuggghhhh, I'm really sorry for how long it took for me to get out this chapter. Honestly, I kinda got. . . sidetracked by other stuff *cough cough* animatinginBlender3D *cough cough* (Also, I was sorta dealing with other issues. . . eeee)**

**Yeah. . . well, we'll see where we go from here. . .**

**Also, this is a bit of a sorta-depressed chapter, especially towards the end, for a Christmas Eve (EST) present. Hahaha. . . yeah**

**Well, enjoy**

**WARNING! Mentions of a lost limb and a prosthetic. Reader discretion advised.**

* * *

"Well. That went well."

Jesse gave Lukas a deadpan look, unimpressed. He groaned, resting his head against the bars that separated him from his friends. Lukas was, understandably, concerned, but Petra had her face in a stony glare, never moving once as soon as she settled in her position.

Though Jesse was far from intimidated, it was admittedly a little. . . disturbing to see her like this.

"That's a _great_ way of putting it," Jesse retorted, craning his neck to peer at his blond friend-

Friend? Acquaintance?

Jesse didn't know _what_ to call Lukas anymore. On the one hand, they've been through too much together - from running from the Bureau in the End to facing Herobrine and scaling the high mountains in which Sky City resided - to be considered mere acquaintances.

And yet. . . Jesse just didn't feel the closeness as with a friend. This must be a transitioning period of time, he mused to himself. The time where someone - anyone, really - was no longer _just_ a random bystander, and yet still not a close confidant.

In these times, everything was changing; Jesse felt as though his old life was nothing but a distant memory now. Nothing was as certain as they had been back then.

Except one, of which Jesse had realized a long time ago: Lukas was no longer his rival.

Not anymore.

Jesse shook all of these thoughts out of his mind as Lukas spoke up again. "Ya think?" the leather-wearing blond sarcastically shot back, scowling. He uncrossed his arms and began waving them around in exaggeration. "Asking to come into this city to seek help for you, only to have the so-called Founder throw you behind bars!"

Jesse tilted his head, one thing in mind that stuck out above the rest. "You were trying to - to help me?"

Lukas paused, turning to Jesse. His scowl eased into a look of embarrassment. He scratched his head slightly. "Well. . . yes?"

A rush of warmth surged into Jesse's chest, surprising him. When he was younger, he always looked out for himself, was always the lone wolf. He had to be; if he wasn't, then he would've died a long time ago. He learned to shut out others; ultimately, they were _his_ problems. Not anyone else's.

He didn't need anyone. And - if he was honest - deep down, he thought they didn't need _him._

Maybe he needed them more than he thought.

And that scared him more than anything else.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Petra finally, _finally_ spoke, but her voice, contrary to the usual anger, was actually _devoid_ of any emotion. The sheer lack of anger was what sent chills down Jesse's back, though he knew it wasn't chills from fright.

Jesse stared evenly at the redhead, deciding to play it her way. "About this?" He waved around his newly-attached metal limb while trying to subtly eye her carefully, gauge her reaction.

A flash of anger crossed her face, but she breathed in deeply. Jesse frowned, puzzled. Normally, the Petra he knew would be screaming, ranting and raging at him. She was always a tempest, a force to be reckoned with, even more so when she was angry.

So why was she holding back?

The answer popped into his mind before he could even form the question: _Because she isn't the Petra you know anymore._

This new revelation turned Jesse's head towards Petra, taking in her visage while replaying memories of her before he disappeared and her after.

She was noticeably calmer in her fighting, less willing to go all-out on an enemy. Looking at her now, he couldn't help but see she seemed more. . . _tired,_ as if a weight had been placed on her shoulders that she hadn't had before. Where the all-for-yourself mercenary had been was a reluctant hero.

At least to Jesse's eyes.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she asked again, this time more softly.

Jesse sighed, suddenly feeling _tired._ He lowered his metal limb and peered up at his friend, seeing her in three different lights all at once: the reluctant hero, the mercenary, and the loyal friend.

He dimly noted Lukas standing to the side, looking a little more than uncomfortable.

"I didn't think it was necessary to know," Jesse finally answered. He lifted his gaze to see Petra's face, startlingly twisted into a visage of anger.

_Ah, there's the Petra I know._

"It _didn't matter?_" she repeated, sounding incredulous. She uncrossed her arms. "Losing an arm is a _big deal!_" She began pacing.

Jesse turned to look at Lukas, who was wearing an expression that was a cross between concern and fear of Petra. Jesse kept his gaze as neutral as he could muster as he listened to Petra's rant. When she was _really_ angry, she became animated, throwing her hands which way, most of which were threatening gestures such as jabbing fingers; such was the case now.

" '_It didn't matter'_. If I believe that, then Withers have tentacles!"

"I said it _wasn't necessary to know_, not that it _didn't matter_," Jesse corrected the girl. He refrained from adding, _Though it really _doesn't, lest he get a faceful of a raging Petra. To him, though, it really didn't, as long as everyone else was safe.

Petra seemed to deflate at that. She took a deep breath as she settled herself next to a post. "Okay. Okay. Fine, then. How?"

Jesse paused, debating mentally. On the one hand, he _could_ tell them. Get it over with, as they say. _Rip the bandage off._ But then. . . they would worry about him, and incessantly so. Personally, he would rather them not. After all, all that was really, _truly_ important was that they were safe. He saw no point in them worrying over someone who was already broken.

On the other hand, if he kept his secrets, he _knew_ that Petra would continue to pester him, persevering until he gave them an answer. And not a vague one either. A full explanation for an answer. Lukas may respect his space (though he wasn't too certain about _that_; he hardly knows the blond, after all), but not Petra. Never Petra.

And that was the one thing he simultaneously loved and hated about her.

Finally, he sighed, deciding to choose the former option. "Fine. I guess I should start at the very beginning, huh?"

Petra actually perked up at that. Her eyes flashed with surprise. "Wait, really?"

Jesse nodded. Finally, _finally_, Petra moved, crouching down in front of him, the cage bars still separating them. Lukas' eyes also widened in surprise, but he made to sit on the ground too.

Once they were comfortably seated, Jesse began: "I think you remembered what happened, what with the EnderCon Bombings and all that."

"The one you faked your death in?" Petra deadpanned. "Yeah, kinda hard to forget."

Jesse gave her his own deadpan stare. "Do you want me to talk or not?"

"Go on," Lukas said, almost hurriedly, before Petra could snark back.

Jesse leaned forward, breathing out softly. Thinking. Remembering. Remembering the screams and the explosions. Remembering Herobrine. Most of all, remembering the one thing, that one revelation, that changed his life. . . _forever_. "But there was something that - that I didn't know I had back then. Something that I didn't know that I was."

* * *

"_Have fun, Formido."_

_Jesse couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All he could do was stare, horrified, as the bomb, dispatched from the Bureau of Quarantine, dropped like a stone, faster and faster, towards him. His stomach suddenly lurched, possibly from the terror of staring into the face of Death._

_As the bomb was mere seconds away from his face, the pull in his stomach suddenly yanked, and he was in a dark void, the imprinted image of Herobrine's eyes in his mind the only thing that was alight._

_As Jesse recovered his breath, he wondered if he was dead. It was certainly _dark _enough to be the Void of Death or - or something._

_The musing of _where _exactly people went when they died flitted in his mind for the briefest of moments, but he pushed it out._

_And yet he was recovering his breath and feeling his shoes crunch against something solid and looking down to see sand-colored stone. Certainly, if he were dead, then he wouldn't be able to _breathe_, much less feel and see, right? So he must not be dead -_

Whoa, whoa, whoa. _He mentally backtracked, frowning._ Sand-colored stone? In a void? _Something wasn't right._

_A chill went down his spine. Wait. . . there's absolutely _no way _that he's where he thinks he is. It _shouldn't _be possible. After all, there was no way to get there except by portal._

_Jesse kept his head down, trying to tell himself all these things, trying to deny himself what he knows to be true. The sand-colored stone, the void. . . it's all painting a picture that Jesse finds too abstract, even repulsive, to be true._

_But he knew that he would eventually have to look up, eventually confirm where he was. If it was true, then he _needed_, with the utmost urgency, to get out as fast as possible._

_But if it wasn't?_

_Well, Jesse didn't know if he should be relieved that he wasn't in. . . the other option or frantic that there might be no way out._

_So, he craned his neck up -_

_And was met with a tall obsidian pillar right in front of him._

_His lungs contracted, his chest tightening. _No. Oh, no.

_He was in the End._

* * *

"Wait wait wait," Lukas interrupted, making a _time-out_ gesture. He gave Jesse an incredulous look. "You _teleported to the End?_"

Impatient to get on with his story, Jesse snapped back, "No, I teleported to the Beginning."

Petra cracked a small smile at Jesse's snark, much to the young Ender's relief. Then she seemed to sober up. "What happened next?"

Jesse leaned back, thinking to himself again. Trying to remember. _Ah, there we go._ "Then I got abducted by an Enderman."

* * *

_The familiar _fwoop! _of an Enderman reached Jesse's ears, and he sensed a presence behind him. Immediately, Jesse stiffened, straightening, and kept his eyes forward, remembering the one rule of mob-hunting: _Never look an enderman in the eye.

_Another _fwoop_, and Jesse found himself staring at the rod-like legs of the black creature. On impulse, even with his brain screaming at him to resist (for it would end up killing him), he looked up, straight into the Enderman's eyes._

_As soon as he locked eyes, he immediately averted his eyes, silently cursing himself for doing such a _stupid _thing. He braced himself and waited for the Enderman to start pummeling him._

_. . ._

_. . ._

_Nothing?_

_Jesse cracked open an eye, peering at the tall monster. The Enderman peered back at him, something akin to. . . _amusement? _crossing its eyes._

Was it even possible for mobs to feel amusement?

_That was the last thought that crossed Jesse's mind before the Enderman abruptly grabbed him into a bear hug before teleporting away._

* * *

"Wait, so. . ." Lukas frowned, puzzling Jesse's account out in his head. "You looked an Enderman in the eye. . . and you didn't get attacked?"

Jesse exhaled, nodding. "That's correct."

Petra interjected, frowning. "But that's impossible. Enderman don't make exceptions for _anyone._ In fact, I didn't think they even know what _exceptions_ even means."

"No," Jesse corrected. "They don't make exceptions for _humans._"

Petra and Lukas stared at him, the former with an uneasy glint in her eyes and the latter with a blank expression.

"Come again?" the blond asked.

Jesse sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm half-Ender, remember?"

"You _are?_" they both simultaneously shouted.

Jesse gave them both a weary look. "I _told_ you guys before."

"When?" Lukas demanded.

"When we were running from the Bureau in the End."

Lukas had a puzzled expression for a moment. "I don't remember."

Jesse shrugged. "Well, now you know."

The trio sat in silence for quite a while, the redhead and the blond absorbing this new information.

Jesse was the first to break the silence. "Well, there is. . . more to it than that."

* * *

_After the still-unfamiliar feeling of his stomach lurching, this time with the Enderman teleporting, Jesse felt a jolt shoot up the Enderman's legs as it landed on something solid. A split-second later, Jesse was sprawled face-down on a quartz floor -_

Quartz?

_Jesse slowly climbed back to his feet, glancing around the building. The palace (he _thought _it was a palace, based on the design) was made into a cylindrical design of quartz and glowing purple stone with a dome made of purple and black glass._

_If he wasn't so terrified, he would've found the sight awe-inspiring, even beautiful._

"_Jesse."_

_Jesse whirled around, immediately assuming a defensive stance. Out from the shadows of a tunnel that was across from him, a figure stepped into the light. He wore a chestplate outlined in gold veins with a purple gem imbedded in the center. His entire outfit scheme was black and dark gray with purple veins arranged in a uniform pattern._

_Tucked under his right arm was a helmet; a black helmet whose visor was outlined with purple and crowned with gold thorns. His face was generally like an Enderman's, except for the mop of hair the color of Jesse's own hair resting on his head._

_Jesse blinked at the stranger. "Who are_ _you?"_

_The stranger's eyes flashed with sad amusement. "I am Enderus, King of the End."_

_Jesse felt his eyes widen in surprise. Of course, he's _heard _of Enderus, but he's always dismissed the legends as a myth._

_Of course, the Legend of Herobrine was supposed to be a myth, and yet. . ._

_Jesse shoved down the tide of heartbreak that surged in his heart, trying to school his face into an emotionless mask. _Don't cry.

If you cry, you're weak.

_Enderus sighed, regarding Jesse with a deep sadness and regret that seemed inappropriate to the latter. Why would he be sad or regretful? Why was he looking at Jesse as if the teen was lost and - somehow - it was all his fault?_

"_You look so much like your mother," he murmured, his eyes clouding with deep emotions._

_Jesse's back went as straight as a rod when he heard those words. He looked at Enderus. "You - you knew my mother?" he whispered, almost unbelieving. Before Enderus can respond, a million thoughts passed through his head in a split-second, piecing together a picture and connecting some dots that Jesse was beginning to see as logical yet wildly impossible._

_Jesse didn't _want _to believe what Enderus' strange comment implied for the both of them. But he _had _to know._

_He had to._

"_Did - _Do _you know me?"_

_Enderus looked at him, and Jesse saw deep sadness and - Jesse peered closer - was that _pride_? in his gaze. "You were only a baby," the king sighed. "But from that moment, I swore to watch over you from afar, to watch and protect even if I couldn't be there for you."_

_Jesse's breath caught in his throat. "You mean -"_

"_Yes." Enderus opened his arms. "Welcome home, son."_

* * *

"Wait wait WAIT!" Lukas gaped at Jesse, sputtering a bit. "You're Enderus' SON?"

Jesse shrugged. "It appears so."

"How can you act so _casual_ about it?" Lukas was practically foaming at the mouth and tearing his hair. "You're _Enderus' son!_"

"So. . . ?"

"Enderus! The mythical, all-powerful warlord deity! _Enderus!_" Lukas finally exhaled. "I honestly _can't_ see him being a dad."

Jesse shrugged again. "He's not so bad. He taught me how to spar. And we did some building competitions. It was fun."

Lukas' eyes were practically _bulging_ out of their sockets.

"I think you need to stop," Petra chided Jesse, although her own mouth twitched. "You're blowing Lukas' mind."

"Oh, very well," Jesse conceded.

"But what does this have to do with your prosthetic limb?" Petra interjected, frowning.

Jesse pinned her with a serious stare. "Everything."

* * *

_Enderus frowned as he examined Jesse's right arm. "Did Herobrine do that to you?" he asked._

_Jesse nodded, swallowing as the pain of the infection made his arm throb. "I probably shouldn't've come," he confessed. "Otherwise, I might get all of you infected."_

_Enderus blinked in surprise, looking at Jesse. "What makes you think that?"_

_Caught off-guard, Jesse stammered, "Wouldn't the Wither infect you guys?"_

_Enderus frowned again, looking down at Jesse's arm with a pensive expression. Jesse's heart sank. After finally finding the one parent that's been inexplicably absent since the day he was born, Jesse's own father was going to cast him out, similar to how the townsfolk had cast him out since he associated himself with Axel and Olivia._

_That's when the most unexpected answer Jesse could've ever expected was given: "No."_

"_What?" Jesse gaped at the king._

_Enderus leaned away, turning to face his son. "Ender DNA contains some type of protein or something - I'm not really good with biology - that can fight off Wither. In full-blooded Enders, it can immediately decimate any trace of it in our systems. For Ender-Human hybrids, however, the Ender blood is normally dormant. If there was a specific type of danger posed to the Ender-Hybrid, such as the manifestation of Wither or falling debris that cannot be avoided, then the dormant powers -"_

"_Become active," Jesse finished._

_Enderus nodded. "Exactly. When it comes to Wither, the part that has been infected is completely contained in that area within an Ender-Human hybrid. Which means, for you -" He nodded towards Jesse's arm. "- it won't spread past your arm." He frowned thoughtfully. "Although, your arm healed a lot faster than regular Ender-Human hybrids - weren't you a Warlord too?"_

_Jesse gaped at Enderus, speechless, and nodded._

"_Ah. That explains why - the enhanced health. Unfortunately -" Enderus frowned, sending anxious butterflies flitting in Jesse's stomach. "- this means that your arm will die. It has already died."_

"_What?" Jesse gasped._

_Enderus sent him an apologetic glance. "I'm afraid that, since the Wither is confined to your arm, it will ravage it since it's concentrated in that area."_

_Jesse couldn't breathe; his mind was sent into a flurry of possible pathways of the implications of Enderus' diagnosis. "What does this mean?"_

_Enderus sighed, almost mournfully, which did nothing to alleviate Jesse's rising anxiety. "It means that we'll have to remove it."_

_Jesse's head abruptly spun with shock. Never, not in a million years, did he think that he had an injury that was deemed severe enough to remove one of his limbs. Truth be told, he _has _had quite a few close calls with some. . . other people._

Great_, Jesse quipped to himself. _I get pummeled by a bunch of Master Warlords at one time, and it doesn't kill me. But I get one teeny sickness, and suddenly I have to have my arm cut off?

_Really, Jesse was the tiniest bit aware that his sarcasm was a defense mechanism to downplay the pure _fear _he felt at having his arm removed. But, being the master of fear (his own name meant it, after all), he refused to succumb to mind-numbing panic._

"_When?" Jesse asked through a deceptive mask of calm._

_Enderus peered at him, looking almost. . . worried. "Sometime soon. It's not like it'll kill you, but the arm is definitely useless now."_

_Possibly sensing his anxiety, Enderus hurriedly reassured him, "You don't _have _to have it taken off, but it may be for the best. It's completely dead." He lowered his eyes to the ground, and Jesse could sense some deeper meaning as Enderus added, "You can't revive what's good and truly dead."_

_Jesse breathed in. Breathed out. Thinking. Weighing his choices. Should he go through with this?_

_On the one hand, he didn't want to deal with the phantom pains that might haunt him for the rest of his life. He also couldn't imagine having to relearn how to use his arm again (his prosthetic arm, of course); he feels helpless just _thinking _about it._

_On the other hand, he gets what Enderus was saying: when it comes to a fight, then he'll be merely half-decent at fighting, considering he uses both hands for wielding weapons and using his powers. Wouldn't this pro alone outweigh the cons?_

_Jesse glanced up at him, hardening his resolve. "We'll do it."_

* * *

Petra and Lukas were silent as Jesse recounted these events to them. They stewed in their own thoughts, a somber air surrounding them. Jesse kept silent, watching and waiting for them to come out of their thoughts first before speaking to them.

Finally, Petra was the first to break the silence. "That's why," she whispered, her voice full of wonder. "When the Founder asked you if you had Wither, that's why you said 'I did,' not 'I do.' " She was looking at him with an enlightened expression.

Jesse nodded. "That's correct."

Lukas leaned backwards, looking at Jesse appraisingly. "So why can't Enderus use Ender blood as a cure?"

Jesse frowned, racking his brain for an answer. "I asked him once, myself," he admitted quietly. "But the thing is -" Jesse exhaled. "- that's a feature that's purely Enderman. If you were to inject it in someone, their own DNA will be altered to become more Enderman-like. And separating the proteins from the blood will cause them to die, for some unknown reason." Jesse shrugged. "I'm no expert in the biology field."

"But wouldn't being turned into an Enderman be a better fate than - than being turned into one of _those_ things - those Withereds?" Petra protested.

Jesse rubbed his eye. He was suddenly thankful for thinking of this himself and asking Enderus. "I don't know. But Enderus explains that there must be a balance; there's a reason why there aren't many Ender-Human mixes nowadays. If we go around creating them on a whim, then there's a chance that the entire human race won't survive in the future.

"We must find a cure that's a true cure, not something that's better than nothing."

"But sometimes that's the only other option we have," Lukas retorted.

"True," Jesse acknowledged. "But if there was a chance to make everything go back the way it's supposed to - for all Withereds to become human - then we must take it. Sometimes the best option is to settle for better than nothing. But if there can be a choice that's greater than that, then it's worth a shot."

Lukas and Petra were silent. "I see," Lukas finally muttered, and Jesse could tell by his tone that Lukas truly _did_ understand.

"What - exactly - happened after the surgery?" Petra inquired.

Jesse cocked his head, mentally skimming through the somewhat-painful therapy lessons and the combat training that went along with said therapy. "I underwent therapy for using my new prosthetic, as well as combat training," he answered. "About a month before you guys came here, I was given new armor and a new name."

* * *

_Jesse slunk back into the palace, his body hot and sweaty from the exhaustive combat and therapy lessons he had to endure for that day. To his surprise, his father met him as he was coming in._

"_Jesse, I have a gift to give you."_

_Jesse, intrigued, followed Enderus into the throne room. There, Enderus turned and gestured to an armor stand that was next to the throne._

"_You have progressed so far in your training, beyond the level of progression even my best offspring show." Jesse couldn't help but blink in surprise. He really progressed that far? Still, he listened to Enderus._

"_To this end, I have decided that you are my new protector of the End Palace. I had the best armorer make this new armor for you." Enderus gestured towards the armor stand. Though he had no visible mouth, Jesse could tell his father was smiling. "I'm proud of you, son."_

_Enderus stepped aside to reveal the new armor. Jesse blinked at it, taken off-guard._

_The chestplate was exactly like a Master Warlord's design, except the color was, instead of a standard blue or red, an Enderman-pink color. His helmet was a dark gray with gold veins outlining the visor and a mouthpiece. Compared to the rest of his outfit, his boots were a pair of generic, dark-gray metal boots, but Jesse was most drawn to the chestplate._

_A swell of affection surged in his chest, but he fought it down in the hopes of seeming professional in front of his father's guards. "I find them outstanding," he told Enderus. He nodded towards his father. "Thank you, father."_

_Enderus probably understood that Jesse was just being formal for the appearance because he nodded stiffly in return, though Jesse sensed he was smiling too. "It is the least I can do."_

_Jesse tried on the armor. Though it was stiff, Jesse knew it just needed to be broken in for it to become more comfortable. An Enderknight guard approached Jesse, a sword in hand. Jesse noted that the blade was made of pure obsidian with purple runes and a purple gem imbedded in its silver hilt._

"_This is mine?" he asked in surprise. At a nod from Enderus, he picked it up and tested its weight, swinging it._

_Once he was done and sheathed it, Jesse turned, bowing to his father. "You are very gracious," he said emphatically._

_Enderus nodded. "Now, all we need is a codename for you."_

_Unease stirred in the pit of his stomach, although Jesse tried his best to hide it. "Pardon?"_

"_Well, it won't do us any good if our enemies knew your real name," Enderus reasoned. "I allow you to pick your own name."_

_Jesse kept silent. He hasn't had a good experience with other names, not since -_

Don't.

_But this was a chance; a chance to restart. A chance to redeem himself. Perhaps he was more feared because of his former name, which literally meant "Fear". Maybe this entire mess came about because he was trying to live up to that name._

_Now he knew better._

_Maybe, if he picked a good name and tried to live up to it - maybe he would be a better person._

_Maybe, even with that little voice nagging at him, trying to beat him down, telling him that a new name can't change what a coward and murderer he'd become, as well as how much of a failure he's been and how naive he would be to think that merely changing his name can fix him._

_Maybe._

_Jesse looked up at Enderus. "Vindex," he stated. It wasn't just a name - it was a commitment to himself to be better. "My codename is Vindex."_

* * *

Silence permeated the air as Jesse wrapped up his story.

"And so," Jesse concluded, "I became a sort-of guide to people who were seeking refuge from the Wither Sickness in the Overworld, guiding them safely through without being attacked by Immanis. I also served as a - a mediator of sorts, since I technically had one foot in each world."

Petra's expression was blank. Lukas, however, was nodding as if he understood. Perhaps he did.

"Then -" Jesse exhaled through his mouth. "- I heard that Soren was coming. And the rest, well. . ." He shrugged. "You guys know the rest."

Pensive silence ensued, each to their own thoughts. Jesse let it all sink in, but only now was he truly coming to grips with the implications of his own story. Even with five months to grasp this, it hasn't really sunk in until he told his story to his friends.

He was an _Ender-Human hybrid_, perhaps the only one of this generation. He had the power to save the world from the Wither Sickness, thanks to his newfound immunity to it. He could've done something earlier, saved a lot of people.

Instead, he ran and hid from them all. He ran from his responsibility. He ran from his friends, and for what? For his own selfishness on wanting to stay away from the world. He was a monster with blood on his hands, and because he was selfish enough to try and start a new life, more blood got onto his hands.

He thought he was becoming a better person. Instead, he was just as cowardly and just as guilty of murder as ever.

Nothing was said, not even when Petra and Lukas left, a long time ago. They had just stood and left. And good riddance, they probably thought. They could probably see how selfish and cowardly he'd been, running from everything. They probably didn't want him.

And he couldn't blame them.

* * *

**A/N Told ya it would be slightly depressing.**

**Honestly, I was kinda trying to close a couple loopholes (since my brain tends to point out loopholes in stories and I try to fix it as much as possible), and the last couple bits were writing for the sake of writing, so I apologize if they didn't make sense.**

**Ah well! At least you got to know what exactly was going on with Jesse in the five-month hiatus of his appearance (consider it my present to you, fellow readers)!**

**RQTC: Would you find it okay if I had an author-character conversation in the Author's Note? If so, which character?**

**MERRY CHRISTMAS (or insert whatever holiday you celebrate) AND HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!**


	15. Questioning (Part II)

**Response to reviews:**

**idontwritetoomuch: Ahahaha yeah, and I did it again lol. . .**

**lucysnuffle: Oh, you think so? Thanks!**

**Well, guys, you asked for it, and here it is!**

_Lukas: *screams while falling headfirst into a chair*_

_Northern: Ooh, that's gotta hurt._

_Lukas: Agh, tell me - Wait. . . where am I?_

_Northern: Good question. *Clears throat while looking at script* Welcome to the fourth cube, where a particular character of your choosing - that'd be the reader - would interact with the author of the story, which is me._

_Lukas: *Stares blankly*_

_Lukas: What._

_Northern: Oh, that's right. You don't know about the fourth _wall_, much less the fourth cube._

_Lukas: Fourth. . . wall?_

_Northern: Ah. . . *talks to reader* You guys go ahead and start the chapter. I'll sit with Lukas here and explain the fourth wall to him real quick._

_Lukas: Wait, what _is_ the fourth wall?_

* * *

"So - you're the one the Founder was throwing a ruckus about?"

Jesse, startled, glanced up at the newcomer in the prison, who was currently leaning against a pillar. The newcomer was wearing a gray shirt with blue suspenders, one of which had currently fallen. His messy blond hair was accompanied with a red hat along with a short mustache and beard. He seemed to be surveying Jesse with an analytical eye.

"I mean, if you count freaking out about Wither Sickness and throwing me in prison," Jesse conceded, shrugging, "then yeah, she was having a panic attack. Huge one at that."

The newcomer snickered slightly, sending a twinge of satisfaction in Jesse. At least _somebody_ wasn't trying to murder, capture, or imprison him.

"Sounds like her." The newcomer rolled his eyes. "Trying to enforce the 'rules' and all that." Though his tone was joking, Jesse could discern a slight hint of bitterness in his words.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

The newcomer chuckled. This time, there was a notable amount of bitterness in his laugh. "Oh, yes." He walked up to the bars and thrust his hand through the space in-between the iron rods. "Name's Milo. I'm the Innkeeper of The Builder's Inn."

Jesse raised an eyebrow again as he grasped the middle-aged man's hand. Truth be told, he found the name a little more than. . . odd. "Interesting name."

"What, 'Milo'?" Milo sounded offended.

"No, the inn's name."

"Oh. Yes." This time, the man let out a genuine laugh. Jesse was a little surprised; he couldn't remember the last time _he_ made someone laugh.

_Guess there _is _one other thing I'm actually good for._

"It was named for a small revolution we tried to start," the blond explained. He began rubbing his neck in an awkward fashion. "It. . . worked."

Already Jesse could sense some catch that the innkeeper was about to explain. He raised an eyebrow. "But. . . ?"

"But I ended up in jail." Ah. That explains the bitter tone that the man held when he was talking about the Founder. He nodded towards Jesse. "Sat in that same cell, I did."

"Huh," was all that Jesse could manage. Hey, what could a guy say to that? _I feel sorry for you_? No, because pity is the _last_ thing that he wanted to give someone.

He should know.

"Apart from the Wither Sickness, what _else_ are you imprisoned here for?" Milo wiggled his eyebrows, as if eager to get the inside scoop.

Jesse shrugged. "She says she's not imprisoning me, just containing me to keep the sickness from spreading."

"Riiiiiight." Milo sounded unconvinced. "And zombies will fly."

Jesse frowned, unsettled by Milo's cynical tone. "What is with you and the Founder?" he inquired. He was actually curious about Milo's apparent distrust of his authoritative figure.

"Well -" Milo sighed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. "It's just that. . . she's _very_ strict on enforcing the 'rules' and all that. It had been getting to the point where she was being all-around controlling. 'Do this,' or 'Build that.' She didn't allow much freedom for us."

Jesse nodded. Though he himself hadn't been subjected to what Milo was describing, he _has_ seen it happen before, in opposing Warlord armies. Often, though, their uptight nature lead to their demise, _especially_ when his own army employed chaotic strategies.

"But I found a lot of citizens who agreed with my observations." Milo's voice startled Jesse out of his thoughts. "They agreed that we needed to fight for our own freedoms. And so -" Milo puffed out his chest, his eyes shining with pride as he reminisced about the rebellion - ahem, _revolution_ \- much to Jesse's amusement. "- the Builder's Club was born."

"Interesting," Jesse hummed, and he was being honest. Though he was a Warlord by nature, which meant fighting a lot of battles, he never experienced being the center of a revolution. He always wondered what it was like to be a part of something that was life-changing.

But there was one person that could've _loved_ the chance to participate in something life-changing, something revolutionary. She would've done that while Jesse had been off, fighting his battles as a Warlord.

Jesse knew that she would've loved it.

Even just _thinking_ of her sent a barrage of flashes through his head. _It's because of _you_,_ that voice hissed again, _that she would never be a part of something life-changing. She might've even been the _cause _for something life-changing. But we won't ever know, because _you _robbed her of that, didn't you, when you took her life!_

_That's not true!_ Jesse tried to argue. _Herobrine was the one who killed her._

He could picture that voice screeching with laughter, directed towards him. _Oh please,_ the voice scoffed. _He wouldn't have killed her if _you _hadn't decided to tick the one person who was even capable of killing her! You're a pathetic fool._

Jesse struggled to search for words to contradict the other voice's logic, only to come up with nothing. _He's right,_ Jesse conceded.

So many more flashes of everything that Jesse had failed to be, all of them condensing into one, humiliating presentation that Jesse wasn't capable of stopping. _See? See what you've done?_ the voice taunted. _You couldn't make a difference back then. You're a murderer, a coward, a liar, a pathetic fool! The only reason why you even have friends is because they pity you. They pity you with all your failures! How do you think they'll react if they knew you killed your own sister?_

_You will _always _be alone._

_Always._

Unaware of Jesse's internal struggle, Milo glanced down at him. Jesse's face must've betrayed one of the many emotions that was in turmoil in his heart because the blond's faint smile turned into a frown. "Are - are you alright?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm fine." The lie rolled off of Jesse's tongue effortlessly.

Milo merely raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Their awkward silence was disturbed when the captain - Reginald, Jesse thought his name was - came marching in. From the scowl on his face that was rapidly darkening, Reginald was _not_ happy to see Milo.

The blond reacted similarly. Eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, muscles tensed, Milo gave a curt nod towards Reginald. "Reginald."

"_Innkeeper_." Reginald's voice was a snarl.

Milo raised an eyebrow. "I have a name, you know." His voice was cool, though Jesse noted the flickering of his eyes, the subtle curling of the blond's fist.

Reginald snorted. "A name that is beneath me to utter," he scoffed.

Now there was _definitely_ an inferno raging in Milo's eyes. "Why you -"

Jesse was _through_ with drama; after spending years on the battlefield, he preferred the straightforward, cut-to-the-core type of interactions. Drama wasn't something a Warlord had time for on a battlefield.

He supposed some habits never die.

"Is there a reason you're here?" Jesse drawled, drawing both the innkeeper's and captain's attention. "Or are you here to bicker with each other?"

Though Milo looked oddly embarrassed, Reginald's nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing. "Show some respect, boy," he growled, pointing his sword at Jesse, "or I'll -"

Jesse's patience has run out, and he wasn't in the mood for sparing the captain's pride. "Look, I know you're here for a reason. Either the Founder sent you here, or you came here on your own free will. Which is it?"

Reginald, taken off-guard, blinked at the Ender hybrid, looking at a loss. Jesse waited as the captain collected his thoughts. "The Founder requires me to bring you to her."

Jesse nodded. "So are you going to take me to her?"

Reginald finally snapped out of his stupor. He sent one last glare towards Milo, who returned the heat, and the captain unlocked Jesse's cell.

Before letting Jesse out, Reginald placed handcuffs on Jesse. "If you try to escape," the captain warned in a low tone, "there won't be anything left of you to bring to the Founder."

Jesse's lips inadvertently twitched with amusement. _He has no idea who he's dealing with._ "No," he agreed. "Of course not."

* * *

Jesse glanced around the tiny interrogation room that had been set up. The walls were similar to the cell walls: dark stone that were aged. In front of him was an iron door, one that was currently guarded by two of Reginald's soldiers.

He was seated at an oak desk, similar to the one he had back in his treehouse: same design, same texture.

Just _thinking_ about his old desk formed a lump in Jesse's throat. _Home._

He has never settled down before arriving in this world. As a Warlord part of the army, it was required - and understood - that no matter what, settling down wasn't an option. He had lived with that for so long, it became ingrained as a part of who he was. Even Je- _she_ accommodated him along with their adventures, albeit grumbling and complaining.

Then he moved here.

Suddenly, it was a chance to try something new: a chance to try something that wouldn't even been considered by the Warlord army. Back when he was younger, he used to talk to old farmers, who provided him some insights on the benefits of settling down.

He had once scoffed at them, though only in his mind. Who needed to settle down, when you could travel the world? What was the point of sitting alone on a farm, reaping and sowing, when you could experience new adventures?

Now he understood.

The treehouse wasn't only the _first_ place Jesse had built for himself in this world; it was also the first place where he considered home. With Olivia, Axel, and. . . and Reuben, living in that treehouse was the first time where he felt he truly belonged.

The iron door creaked open. Like a bucket of cold water that had been dumped onto him, Jesse snapped back to reality. The Founder strolled in. Instead of her normal, imperial self, though, she looked. . . weary.

"Jesse."

Jesse sent a curt nod towards her. "Founder."

"Please, call me Isa."

Jesse started, frowning. Dropping formal titles already, when he's barely even _met_ her? That was odd, in and of itself. Nevertheless, she _is_ his authoritative figure at the moment, so he may as well abide. "If that's what you want. . ." Jesse paused for a moment, her name foreign on his tongue. ". . . Isa."

Isa only nodded, taking a seat opposite of him. "I am here," she began, "to ask you a couple questions."

Jesse mentally calculated where this was going. "Is this an interrogation?"

"Of sorts." Isa brushed some of her hair to the side. _A nervous tick,_ Jesse noted. "Think of it more as an. . . informal questioning session."

"It's an interrogation," Jesse deadpanned.

Now it was Isa's turn to frown. Jesse could practically _see_ her mind calculating all the different things to say. Finally, her shoulders slumped, as if defeated. "Well, I suppose it is."

Jesse merely nodded, not trusting himself to speak at once. "So what is it that you desire to ask me?"

Isa fidgeted for a moment. For that split second, she didn't seem like the regal ruler he knew; rather, she seemed almost. . . unsure of herself. "It was what you had said earlier. You 'did' have Wither Sickness. What do you mean by that?"

Jesse tilted his head to the side. "I once had it," was all he replied with. He waited, wanting to see if she wanted him to elaborate.

The Founder frowned at him. "You once had it," she repeated. "But you don't have it anymore?"

Jesse shifted. "That's correct."

"That's impossible."

Jesse glanced at her, scrutinizing her. She wore a look of disbelief on her face, but in her eyes were a flash of something that he couldn't discern. "Is it?"

"But how?"

Jesse realized what that look in her eyes were. It's a look that he seldoms comes across these days, in this world. It's a look that twisted his heart, because the answer would potentially crush it, stomping it flat before scattering it to the winds.

_Hope._

Jesse glanced away, unable to bear the look in her eyes, the desperate gleam that was trying to hold on to the tiniest piece, even a particle, of hope. "It's only because I have enderman blood," Jesse murmured.

Isa looked confused. "What do you mean by that?"

Jesse sighed, hating himself for what he was about to do, before explaining everything. About how Ender blood somehow repels the effects of Wither. About the difference between full-blooded Enders and hybrids. About the consequences of injecting it as a cure in humans.

As he talked, he could _see_ the hope in Isa's eyes fade, dying out. He _hated_ himself for doing this to her, but at the same time she deserved to know _everything._

When he was done, Isa leaned back in her chair, staring blankly ahead. "So that's it, then," she murmured, half to herself. "There _is_ no cure for this disease, then."

"No," Jesse insisted. He disliked that look that Isa had in her almost-vacant eyes. "No, there _is_ a cure."

Isa frowned. "But you just said -"

"There _is_ a cure," he repeated emphatically. With that, he launched into the story of how he ended up here: from the Bombings of EnderCon to the appearance of his friends five months later in the End and to their travel up the treacherous mountain. When he got to the part of Reuben's death, Jesse found he couldn't bring himself to continue without choking up. But he valiantly pushed forward, forcing himself to continue. For Isa. For Reuben. For the flame of hope that must be rekindled in all of their hearts.

"And that's why we're here," Jesse summed up. "We must hide from Herobrine and plan our next move."

Isa sat there in stunned silence. Jesse wondered briefly if she didn't believe him until she saw a glint of sadness in her eyes. "I believe you," she replied softly, almost gently.

Jesse glanced up at her, shocked. Out of all the things he thought she would say, _that_ wasn't it.

"You've faced such hardships to get where you are right now." Isa glanced away, though he wondered if she was only doing so to keep him from seeing the pity in her eyes. It certainly _felt_ as though she was pitying him. "Even after your friend, Reuben. . ." Her voice trailed off.

Jesse felt a stinging in his eyes, but he refused to give in, refused to let the tears fall. _Showing emotion is a weakness,_ came that voice again, taunting him. _But you were always weak, weren't you? You _are _a weakness!_

"Shut up," Jesse murmured, too low for Isa to hear.

Isa turned back to Jesse, though he noted - with some surprise - how her eyes were red-rimmed. But what does it matter to her, he wondered as he gazed at her confusedly. She couldn't _possibly_ understand. . .

. . . right?

Isa rose, beckoning towards the former Warlord. "Come with me," she commanded. Her regal air back in place, she strolled out of the room, leaving Jesse to catch up to her.

* * *

"Citizens of Sky City." Isa's voice boomed, even when she didn't have a microphone, from the set of stairs that were right in front of the capitol building. "I have a special announcement to make.

"As you know, a trio of strangers came into our gates, seeking asylum. Of course, I understand that there was some uncertainty concerning these strangers and the potential infection of Wither Sickness."

Some of the citizens whispered amongst each other. Jesse swore that he saw a couple hostile glances flash towards him, although he couldn't blame them: after all, _he_ looked as if he had the disease.

"However, these strangers are not infectious, contrary to how it _looks._" With that jab, Jesse knew that the Founder knew of the citizens' hostile gazes towards himself. "In fact, they are here to find a cure for this plague that is infesting our world. Treat them with hospitality, as they have sought asylum here, and I have granted their request."

A multitude of protests broke out, trying to shout at the Founder. Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse saw the Founder trying to calm the crowd down, though to no avail.

Finally, Reginald shouted, although he himself didn't look happy, "Alright! Settle down!"

Slowly but surely, the crowd quieted, although not without a few snatches of grumbling here and there.

When the crowd had quieted significantly, the Founder continued, "Now, I know you must be wary of these new guests, but we must treat them with respect. After all. . ." The Founder took this moment to gaze at Jesse. In her eyes was a newfound trust in them that they could fix the situation. ". . . I trust them."

This time, the murmurs that rippled in the crowd weren't hostile murmurs; rather, they were curious mutterings. Isa wrapped up her speech by saying, "Treat them with respect, the same as you would treat each other. Provide for them if needed."

Jesse could only notice one thing as the crowd broke up, even as his friends stayed down there with their expressions of relief evident on his face. He had been scanning the crowd while listening to Isa's speech, and this new development was worrying.

Aiden was missing.

* * *

**A/N I really hope you enjoyed that chapter!**

**Yeah, Ik I went kinda MIA there, but I guess I went into this mindset where I was like, "Hey, I can take a break from writing for a bit!"**

**. . . and then I spend two months not doing anything.**

**Rip me.**

**Oh well.**

**If you guys don't know it already, I'm putting a temporary hold on some other stories, like _A Children's Story_ and _Into the Code,_ just cuz I wanna get _this_ story done before moving on to committing to _A Children's Story._**

**I've also joined the fandom of _Bakugan Battle Brawlers_, so I'm also thinking of keeping _A New Age,_ the story of that fandom, going.**

**Review!**


	16. Asylum (Assaulted)

**Response to Reviews!**

**idontwritetoomuch: Ahahaha yeah. . . 'bout that. . .**

**lucysnuffle: Yep! It's back! And I updated surprisingly early since I decided to go on a writing streak hehe**

_Northern: So, ah, I told Lukas about the fourth wall. . . *glances at blond*_

_Lukas: *Stares unseeingly into some oblivion*_

_Northern: . . . yeah. . ._

_Lukas: My whole life. . . is a lie._

_Northern: *Awkwardly coughs* Storytime!_

* * *

Jesse strolled around, admiring the city. He marveled at the tall, glittering government - for lack of better term - buildings, as well as the small town houses and stored that were built on the rough mountain terrain.

He came to a stop in front of a building. It was small in height, but it covered a large amount of surface area. Lifting his head, he read the sign aloud. " 'The Builder's Inn.' "

Recognition pulsed through him. He briefly flashed back to the blond innkeeper, the one who visited him when Jesse had been incarcerated in the city jail. _So _this _is the inn Milo owns._

Granted, it didn't look majestic in the least, what with its wooden walls and lack of height. But, Jesse mused, it looked cozy, which was enough for him.

Jesse moved to stroll in, but just then Lukas fell out of the doorway onto the floor with a shout.

Jesse raised an eyebrow at the blond, who was laying dazed. "Uh. . . sorry," Lukas apologized sheepishly, glancing up to see Jesse staring down at him.

Jesse sighed. "What happened now?"

Petra came up behind Lukas, looking as though she was trying to stifle a laugh. "Lukas tripped over a chicken that someone brought into the inn."

Lukas, who was dusting himself off, paused to shoot a glare at the redhead. "It's not _my_ fault," he grumbled. "There are chickens _everywhere_."

Jesse perked up, his interest piqued. "Everywhere?"

"Yeah." Lukas blew a breath through his mouth. "I'm seeing them on the streets, in the animal farms. . . Even in houses!" Lukas threw his hands up exasperatedly. "I just don't understand it."

Petra shrugged. "Must be a city thing." She turned to Jesse, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Okay, so. . . what did you tell the Founder that got her so accepting of us?"

Jesse cocked his head to the side, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Petra scoffed. "C'mon, you can practically _see_ how distrustful these citizens are of us."

"Because they're scared," Lukas supplied softly. "They don't know that we don't have Wither, and they don't want to be infected."

"Right." Petra turned, her eyes narrowed in a scrutinizing manner. "If the people are afraid, their leader must _also_ be afraid.

"But for some reason, the Founder herself told the people to _not_ be afraid of us.

"Which begs the question: what did you tell her to trust us so much?"

_Man, she's good at picking this stuff up,_ Jesse noted, respect rising in him for the former mercenary. "I told her of my Ender heritage," he admitted, "as well as the whole story of how we're. . . here."

Petra frowned, her eyes glinting uneasily. "Everything?"

"Everything." A lump rose at the memory of having to recount. . . Reuben, but Jesse swallowed hard, dispelling the memory effectively.

As time went on, Jesse found himself becoming more capable of blocking out memories when the situation called for it. It was a skill taught by the Warlords, which effectively helped them focus in a battle. It was a skill that came in handy at the best of times.

It was also a skill that Jesse feared yet _needed._

As much as the memories of all of his failures hurt, Jesse couldn't bear the thought of forgetting his sister and his best friend permanently. He's heard of tales in which Warlords block out their memories so effectively that they forget altogether of passed loved ones or fatal mistakes they had made in battle. This technicality, sure, made it so that they're more likely to make the same mistakes.

But forgetting loved ones. . .

Jesse _had_ to remember, _needed_ to remember. He couldn't imagine what life would be like if he just. . . brushed them off like a toy that a toddler had outgrown. But the pain. . . sometimes the pain was so intense that Jesse _wished_ for permanent forgetfulness. He _wanted_ to live freed, freed of the pain and the heartache and the sadness that all began when he had made wrong choice after wrong choice, the choices that killed both Jessi and Reuben.

Forgetting loved ones. . . it was sacrilegious.

But would it be worth it, in the end?

A hand shaking his shoulder pulled him out of his reverie, and he found himself staring into Petra's worried eyes. "Are you okay?" she was asking. Jesse blinked at her.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

It was Lukas who spoke up now. "You just had this expression on your face." He was peering at Jesse concernedly. "It looked as though -"

"- you had given up on something," Petra finished softly.

Jesse couldn't help but flinch a little at their shockingly-accurate descriptions. _Am I really _that _transparent?_ He forced his face to smooth over, willed his mask to meld with his expressions, leaving nothing to be exposed. "I'm fine." The lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly, but Petra thrust a finger at him, the concern rapidly changing to anger.

"Don't. Say that."

Surprise pulsed in him, but Jesse masked it with a mere quirk of his eyebrow. "You said that when Reuben died," she snarled. Jesse flinched away again at the memory. "You said that when you blamed yourself for his death. You said that when we were climbing the mountain, and you acted as though a missing arm didn't matter!" Petra got into his face, jabbing her finger in his chest. "You are _not_ fine, no matter how much you say it! So _why_ are you pretending?"

Jesse met her eyes steadily, noting the flames whirling around in them. _That's the Petra I know._ "Maybe it's because I know it doesn't matter."

Petra pulled away, shock twisting her features. Before she could say anything, movement flashed at Jesse in the peripheral of his vision. He turned just as the tip of a dark cloak vanished into the domed, golden building where Isa ruled.

"What is it?" Lukas asked, seemingly confused by Jesse's abrupt behavior.

"Did you see that?" he asked, turning back to them.

Petra frowned, her focus rapidly changing. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"See _what?_" Lukas threw his hands into the air, a note of exasperation in his voice.

Jesse exchanged a glance with Petra, more keen on chasing the cloaked stranger (he _hoped_ there was a person in there; if not, well. . .) than on answering Lukas. Together, he and the redhead ran towards the building, ignoring the cries of a certain blond who seemed to be staggering after them.

* * *

"Did you see where they went?" Petra came to a stop, panting.

Jesse frowned, flicking his eyes around. "No," he answered at length, sweeping his gaze around the room, taking it all in.

They were standing in a level that was below the floor accessible by door. Down here, the basement-like chamber was crudely mined out by rock, a stark contrast to the glamorous, gold structure that had dominated the city. Chests were littered everywhere on rows upon rows of shelves, with signs attached to them.

"This is an odd addition to the capitol building," Jesse remarked, glancing around.

Petra snorted. "Wouldn't know. Never seen one before."

The two locked gazes, and Jesse could see a fire of challenge in her eyes. He merely gazed steadily back.

The door creaked open behind them. Both the Ender and the mercenary turned to see Lukas stumble in. The blond bent over, panting. "Why. . . are you guys. . . so fast?"

Jesse raised an eyebrow, though it was more out of amusement than annoyance. "What, can't keep up?"

Lukas straightened, shooting Jesse a humored glare. "In your dreams."

Jesse grinned, suddenly feeling a shard of that playfulness that had left him a long time ago. It was freeing, if only fleeting. He laughed aloud, relishing the moment, though he knew it would end, inevitably.

Jesse suddenly realized that Petra was staring at him with a strange expression. It was a mix between astonishment, wistfulness, and contentment. "What is it?" Jesse asked her, deliberately softening his tone so that he didn't sound defensive.

"Nothing. It's just. . ." Petra idly twisted a corner of the bandana on her head. "I haven't heard you laugh like that before." Her lips twitched in a soft smile. "It's nice, seeing you like this."

Sorrow washed over Jesse at her words. Without even realizing it, he had grown up far faster than he had thought. Sure, he acted like a doofus when he was with Axel and Olivia, way back when he hopped worlds, but it was all an act; not just for them, but for himself. He yearned for the childhood that he had given up when he went with Herobrine, yearned for the peace and joy of carefreeness.

_In the end, it's_ your _fault._ The voice was back, taunting and sinister as always. You _were the one who chose to give it up for an adventure. There's no one else to blame but yourself._

Petra had turned her gaze on the chests, sparing Jesse from having her exploit his expressions. He sighed mentally before schooling his face back into a rigid mask. He picked his way around the chest-infested area, glancing around at the signs.

The first thing he noted that was odd where what was written on the signs: "_Chicken"_, "_Cow"_, even things like "_Blaze"_, "_Ghast"_, and "_Guardian"_.

Jesse frowned, trying to mentally calculate what they meant. Each time he tried to branch off into another theory, eventually it didn't make sense. "Are you guys seeing what the signs have written on them?"

"Yeah." Lukas frowned at one such chest, labeled "_Ocelot"_. "I don't get it. Why would they label chests with mob names?"

Petra had a pensive expression on her face as she looked at the chests. "Maybe. . . maybe it's referring to the contents inside the chest?"

Jesse frowned, juggling her guess. It was one of his theories he had developed, but following it still didn't make any sense. "It's not like people would stuff actual Ocelots or Ghasts into chests. . . right?" He glanced at the chests, unease welling in his chest. Most of the people here seemed good-hearted people, and he'd hate for his assumption to be proven wrong.

"Well. . ." Jesse aimed an uneasy look at the two. ". . . there's only one way to find out."

Lukas' eyes widened. "You can't be serious."

"And why not?" Petra crossed her arms, staring at the blond.

His head whipped around as he began spluttering. "The Founder trusts us now," he hissed harshly. "How do you think she's going to react if she finds us digging through her stuff?"

A chill spread through Jesse's body as he considered the consequences of their actions; would Isa kill them, or would she expel them from Sky City? If they were expelled from the _one_ place they were safe from Herobrine, then. . . that wouldn't be good.

Then Jesse chided himself for not thinking of these consequences himself. In fact, _he_ was the one who suggested that they should open the chests; what was he thinking?

He thought he had changed. He thought that he had become less impulsive, less brash, less reckless.

But this. . . this proved that he was the same as he had been, back when he decided to join Herobrine to conquer the world, back when he got Jessi. . . killed.

He was the same, disgusting person he had been.

He _hated_ himself for that.

"Lukas is right," Jesse forced out, the words surprisingly bitter on his tongue. His admission caused Lukas and Petra to turn, the former out of surprise, the latter with narrowed eyes.

Jesse continued, "It's not worth the risk. We _need_ Isa's good graces in order to stay up here, where Herobrine wouldn't try to find us." He absently rubbed his metal arm, a shudder going through him as he remembered the purple veins that were trying to take over him. "Because the disease is killed up here," he explained, "Herobrine's gonna have a hard time trying to kill us indirectly."

Lukas frowned, puzzled. "But couldn't he teleport up here and kill us himself?"

Jesse paused, biting his lip as he considered Lukas' words. "Yeah, you're right," he admitted. "But how we managed to avoid him for this long, I don't understand either." A dark revelation suddenly sprung up in Jesse's head, and he stiffened instinctively. "But if we stay here. . ."

"We might as well have signed this city's death warrant!" Lukas' eyes stretched wide in horror as he finished the sentence, the implications fully sinking in as soon as he uttered the words.

_We should never have come here._ Jesse whirled around. "We've gotta get outta here!" He snapped his head around, trying to locate the redhead. "Where did Petra go?"

Lukas, suddenly realizing that the mercenary was no longer with them, joined him in the urgent search for Petra. They started rushing through the labyrinth of chests.

Jesse was investigating the third shelf when he heard Petra's voice: "Uh. . . guys. . .?"

From the sound of her voice, he deduced that she was the next shelf over. He rushed over to the last set of shelves, about ready to grab Petra and bolt. Then he halted, disbelief sparking in his chest.

Petra was staring very, _very_ hard at a chicken. . . with a crown on its head. Petra looked up at Jesse, her face ghostly pale.

Then she lifted her hand, and Jesse clearly saw the item in her hand: an egg that was white with pink spots. Slowly, she stood and reeled her hand back.

Jesse suddenly realized what she was going to do, but before he could react, she flung the egg at the nearby stone wall. The egg cracked open, revealing. . .

Jesse stared at the sheep, flabbergasted. Slowly, he turned to face the equally-shocked face of Petra, before landing his gaze on the chicken and then the sheep again. "What." He pointed at the eggshells before shifting his finger to the sheep, staring back at Petra. "What."

Petra shrugged, her astonished gaze fixed on the eggshells before shifting back up to the sheep. Back and forth her stare went.

"Hey, guys!" Lukas skidded around a corner. "Finally found - what is this?" He paused, taking in the scene.

"I should've known."

Jesse, Petra, and Lukas all whirled towards the direction of the Founder's voice. Her eyes were flashing dangerously, and her hands were curled into fists. Beside her, the captain - Reginald, Jesse recalled - had his iron sword drawn, his lips curled into a snarl. Behind them all, Aiden's face was peeking through the space between the guard and the Founder, his eyes flashing as Jesse met his gaze.

"I should've known." Isa's body trembled with barely-suppressed rage. "You aren't here to fight against the plague after all, are you? You're here to steal the Eversource!"

Jesse blinked at the foreign term before frowning uneasily, flicking his gaze over to his friends. From their bewildered expressions, the Ender deduced that they had no idea what the Founder was talking about. He turned his attention back to Isa's icy gaze. "I'm sorry, what?" he asked politely.

If anything, his tone seemed to aggravate her even more. Her eyes narrowed at him, cold rage flickering in them. "_Don't_ pretend you don't know," she snapped. "It was that innkeeper Milo who set you up, yes?"

At this point, Jesse's confusion and temper was rising, but he quelled his rage, morphing his face into an impassive mask. "I'm sorry, but we have no idea what you're talking about," he replied emotionlessly. "An ever source? No idea what that is. And if you think we are lying -" He spread his arms out, leveling a challenging gaze at the Founder. "- then go ahead. Lock us up."

The Founder pinned him with a heated glare that Jesse managed to endure unflinchingly. After a moment where they both stared at each other, her eyes softened slightly, confusion swirling in them. She muttered, "But Aiden. . ."

Jesse's stomach flipped when he spotted the green-eyed boy, who was behind the Founder. He had a strange, almost wild glint in his eyes, as he held an egg that was green with dark spots.

Just then, Isa turned, pinning her gaze on the boy. "Aiden! Did you. . . _lie_ to me, when you reported - ?"

"It was necessary," Aiden snarled, his glint reminding Jesse of a similar look. After a moment, the Warlord realized what it was: it was the glint of an animal that had been cornered. He thought back to the cloak that disappeared every time they nearly got to it.

And then it clicked.

"It was _you._" Jesse stepped forward, noting how Aiden flinched and shrunk back slightly. "_You_ were the stranger in the cloak, right? _That's_ how you lured us down here."

Isa shot him a puzzled look. "Stranger in a cloak?"

"It was clear that _you_ wouldn't protect your people from this menace, who had brought this disease into the city," came Aiden's growling voice. He eyed the Founder, addressing her directly. "You should've turned them away when you had the chance."

"How _dare_ you question the Founder!" Reginald stepped forward, his iron blade glinting menacingly in the torchlight. "She gave you asylum, and _this_ is how you repay her kindness?"

"_I_ didn't have Wither!" Aiden's voice began rising hysterically. "_I_ didn't have to be contained! _I_ didn't have to be interrogated! He, on the other hand -" At this point, the boy thrust his finger towards Jesse. "- did! And somehow you trust _him_ more than _me?_"

_Wow,_ Jesse thought as he studied the boy. It was clear that Aiden's finally lost it: his eyes were darting around rapidly, his breaths were coming out fast, and his posture was reminiscent to that of a frightened cat.

The Founder glared at Aiden. "You are being unreasonable now," she snapped. "And it is clear that you aren't going to see reason anytime soon. Reginald," she added sharply, turning to the captain of the guard, "detain him."

_Uh oh._ Jesse knew that this wouldn't end well; he's seen Warlords who've gone off the deep end, and detainment was never easy with them.

"No." Aiden backed away, shaking his head. "No no no! I have to - have to protect Sky City from those _menaces!_" He turned to Jesse, a crazed, wicked glint in his eye. "This is _your_ fault! Whatever happens now," he added in a low tone, "will be on _you!_"

"_What_ are you talking about?" Petra demanded, coming up next to Jesse.

"The Bureau," Aiden muttered, almost to himself. "The Bureau will solve this. They always do. They can take out a freak like _you._" He turned hateful, burning eyes at Jesse.

The former Warlord couldn't help but flinch at the word "freak." _See? They think you're a menace, a plague on their city,_ the voice taunted in his head. _That's all that you'll ever be: a burden that only brings disaster wherever you go._

"Don't," Petra warned lowly, "call him a freak."

Jesse frowned now, Aiden's insult melting into the background of his mind. What had Aiden said? The Bureau would solve this?

_The Bureau. . ._

"Aiden! Stop it!" the Founder barked.

Aiden turned his crazed eyes on Isa and smiled insanely. "_You_ don't get to tell me what to do!" he cackled. Jesse noticed Lukas' pale face and realized how much this interaction was affecting the blond; seeing a friend being driven to the brink of insanity is never easy. "_You_ aren't the boss of this city anymore, _Founder!_"

Three things happened all at once:

Aiden threw the egg.

The egg smashed against the wall, revealing a creeper.

The creeper blew up.

Jesse ducked, flinging his hands over his head automatically as debris flew towards them. Keeping his head down, he glanced over to Lukas, covered in dust but unharmed, staring at Aiden with horror in his gaze. "Aiden -" he began to plead.

The boy in question turned his startling-hateful gaze towards the blond. "_Silence!_" he snarled. "You. You betrayed _us_ by staying with those losers!" He gestured towards Jesse, his eyes still trained on Lukas. "Didn't you care about us? Didn't you care that Maya -" Aiden choked, his eyes wavering slightly before hardening again. "- that Maya _died?_"

Horror pulsed in Jesse's chest as he registered this tidbit of news. He saw Lukas' hands fly to his mouth, saw the glittering tears in the blond's eyes. "N-no," he choked out.

Aiden's eyes softened slightly. "I shouldn't blame you."

A hand grabbed Jesse's hair, and Jesse's head was yanked up. Stifling a hiss of pain, his eyes met Aiden's burning eyes. "I should blame _you,_" he snarled.

A hand clamped over Jesse's throat, surprising him into letting out a choked cry. Movement blurred his vision, and suddenly he felt himself flying at a high velocity.

Pain stabbed him on his shoulder, and he winced, hissing at the throbbing agony. Even with his blurred vision, he could see that the Founder was hanging onto a ledge on the opening made by the creeper, about to drop into oblivion.

. . .

Wait.

The Founder was about to _drop into oblivion!_

Jesse struggled to his feet, but before he could reach the Founder, Aiden got there first.

As if in slow motion, Jesse watched as Aiden stamped on her fingers, watched as the Founder - heart-stoppingly - let go of the ledge, unable to hang on any longer.

The cries and screams of others barely registered. Jesse's mind could only flash back and replay, over and over again, Jessi's body, falling - almost in slow motion - to the ground after Herobrine stabbed her.

_No._

_No!_

"_NO!_"

Then, tearing any thought out of his mind, any logic and sense that had kept him safe until this point, Jesse ran to the ledge.

And jumped.

And ignored the screams of his friends as he plummeted towards the falling Founder.

* * *

**A/N How's _that_ for a cliffhanger (no pun intended XD)?**

***Dodges tomatoes thrown* Agh! Ouch! No wait, hold - ah!**

**So, ah, reviews and constructive criticism appreciated?**

**Tell me what you thought of Aiden and his behavior, and what you perceived of it! I kinda want to know how others interpreted it.**


	17. Falling (Explosions)

**Response to reviews:**

**lucysnuffle: I'm glad you're really enjoying it! / Yeah, I tried to make it so that Aiden's actions weren't driven primarily of jealousy, but of fear. / Each character _has_ been affected in different ways, and I can't wait to share the rest of it with you guys! / I really _hope_ it did!**

**idontwritetoomuch: Could you please not swear in the review section if you can? It's nothing against you; you're one of the best reviewers on this story, but honestly cussing makes me a little uncomfortable. But that is right / Nope! Her death is meant to be a new development / Which man? XD But yeah, Jesse _is_ having flashbacks. And the Founder is _terrified_ / I am having a _wonderful_ night (well, its night rn XD), and 'cause I'm in sports, the _drinking water_ part has been taken care of XD**

_Northern: So. . . what do you think of this story so far, Lukas?_

_Lukas: . . . Jesse is an idiot._

_Northern: Mm, yeah. Pretty sure that's the general consensus from Petra too._

_Lukas: Petra's gonna kill Jesse, isn't she?_

_Northern: No. I'll be the one._

_Lukas: . . ._

_Lukas: WAIT WHA-_

**I HAVE BEEN BLESSED TO BRING YOU THIS NEXT UPDATE**

**Even if it _is_ pretty short. . .**

* * *

The wind whistled in his ears as he felt the force of gravity on his entire body, pulling him towards the ground. The Founder was a little more than a gold speck against the white-and-dark-green background of snow-covered ground and trees.

He then realized three things at once:

He doesn't have a plan.

Petra and Lukas were left with an insane Aiden.

He was an idiot.

Well, okay, the last one stemmed from the first two, but it still stands.

Jess shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind and stiffened, forcing his flailing arms to his sides, turning from a parachute to an arrow. With his newfound aerodynamic position, he shot towards the Founder, determination hardening his heart.

He was _not_ about to let another person die because of him.

As he came up to her, her wide, panicked eyes locked onto his. The utter _fear_ in them reminded him of -

_Her eyes met his, wide with panic. She opened her mouth and yelled, "Jery - !" before the blade sliced through her stomach, cutting her vital organs and leaving blood (so, so much red) spurting out of her wound._

No.

No!

NO!

His hand grasped hers, and he twisted so that he faced the top of the mountain. Perhaps out of habit, he thrust his arm up towards the ever-shrinking top of the mountain. He pushed aside the mind-numbing panic threatening to overtake him and focused, imagining a chain that shot out from his hand and connected with the platform they had been on. A connection that would pull them back up.

There was a tug in his gut, pulling him towards the platform. It was a feeble tug; not enough to send them back up. If anything, this development didn't send him into a panic; it hardened his determination.

He willed all the remaining energy within him and pictured it taking the form of an ender pearl, which he forcefully threw towards the top.

The familiar tug that was teleporting yanked violently in his gut. The next thing he knew, he was on his hands and knees, staring at the crudely-shaped stone floor of the basement. His muscles screamed out in protest as he tried to lift himself and he collapsed onto one knee. His arms felt weak and shaky, even when he wasn't exerting himself.

He peered at the Founder through his lashes to see her supporting herself with her hands, her limbs trembling so much she was practically vibrating. Her expression reminded him of his sister's right before she had been run through -

Jesse abruptly felt like throwing up.

The Founder slowly and shakily got to her feet, dusting herself off. She glanced up at Jesse, and something like awe flashed in her eyes. Jesse didn't like that; he just wanted to be _normal._ He didn't want people to regard him as something inhuman or someone worthy of awe; was that too much to ask?

Well, Jesse mused, he supposed it would be, considering how he was a Warlord and a murderer.

"You really _are_ part Enderman," Isa breathed.

Jesse couldn't even answer; his tongue felt too heavy, as if it had been submerged in syrup. He tried to rise again, only to suddenly find that his legs no longer worked. He stumbled back to the ground, his muscles going lax against his will.

Isa was beside him in an instant, frowning worriedly at him. "Are you okay?"

He blinked at her, his brain too slow to process the question. "I - hm." He glanced down at his legs. "It appears that I can't get up by myself," he answered slowly, tasting each word before he released them into the air. They had a bitter tint that he didn't enjoy.

He heard Isa sigh before he felt her arm snake around his back while his left arm was draped over a set of shoulders. When the Founder stood, Jesse forced himself to stand alongside her. He would've collapsed a third time had she not been supporting his weight.

"Let's head up," Isa suggested, a note of worry entering her voice.

A shudder abruptly ran through the island. Jesse could feel the tremor in his boots, and he swore he heard a distant _boom_, coming from above the basement.

Jesse jerked his head up, alarm pulsing through him as he heard another _boom_, loud enough for him to confirm that he didn't imagine it, and felt another tremor run through the top of the mountain. He turned his head to look outside the blown-up hole; there were boulders bouncing off the side of the mountain as they tumbled down.

Isa sucked in a breath sharply, her eyes flashing with worry and alarm. "What's happening?" she whispered, almost timidly. Fearfully. A shiver went through Jesse's spine. If the _Founder_, the leader of the city, was worried. . .

He suddenly recalled what Aiden had said earlier. "_The Bureau will solve this. They always do."_ Dread formed a heavy pit in his stomach as he flashed back to what felt like a lifetime ago: a night of screams and planes whirling above, a night meant to be full of festive fun, ruined by the hissing TNT.

_No._

_Oh no._

"It's the Bureau of Quarantine," Jesse hissed. His legs suddenly started working again (whether through sheer adrenaline or short recovery), and he was able to pull free from Isa's supporting grip. "Aiden must've called them."

Isa sent him a confused look. "Aren't they _good_, then? If they're called the Bureau of Quarantine, then they must be good enough to prevent the disease from spreading."

Jesse was already shaking his head, alarm crawling up his throat. "No, you don't understand," he insisted. "They were the ones who masterminded the Bombing of EnderCon."

A sharp gasp, and Isa's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. Jesse turned as another rumble shook the basement and watched as more boulders tumbled down the mountainside. "If they're here. . ." A million scenarios raced through his head at what they were doing right now_,_ but he refused to think of them. He turned back to the Founder. "We've got to find out why they're here."

The Founder nodded once, her eyes hardening with determination. Together, the two of them dashed up the stone-brick stairs, the rumbles of the explosions still shaking the palace.

* * *

It was with great luck - or not, depending on how Jesse looked at it - that he found his friends despite the chaos.

Great because they looked relatively unharmed.

Not great because then Petra promptly smacked him on the head.

"What was _that?_" she demanded.

Jesse, still reeling from the surprisingly-harsh blow, shot her a confused look while rubbing the area she smacked. "What was what?"

"The fact that you _jumped off a cliff!_"

_Oh._ Yes, he understood he was an idiot, but hey, he saved the Founder. Besides, it's not like he had nothing to save himself with; he was half-Ender and could therefore teleport himself. He couldn't see what the big deal was.

He'd save the Founder, even if it meant his own death.

Lukas groaned, burying his face into his hands. Surprise pulsed in Jesse's chest; the half-Ender had never seen Lukas this distressed. "Oh Notch, Jesse," he moaned. "Wh-why would you even _think_ that it was a good idea?"

Jesse half-shrugged. A fiery explosion suddenly burst to life in front of them, and Jesse, acting out of instinct, grabbed the redhead and the blond and flung them to the side just as fiery debris collided with where they had been standing.

Nausea prompted bile to rise in Jesse's throat. If he had been a split second too late. . .

But there was no time to think about it: Jesse could see Bureau members swarming the city, swords brandished. He had a feeling that they didn't bring those swords to fend off Withereds - mostly because there were no Withereds up here. "Can we talk about this later?" he grunted.

Petra scrambled to her feet again, barely looking fazed. Her eyes flashed dangerously when they landed on Jesse, but when another explosion went off, the mercenary snapped her jaw shut with an audible _click_, glared at Jesse appraisingly, and turned, running off.

Jesse now realized that Lukas was frozen, staring at the spot where he had been in horror. "Lukas?" Jesse knelt in front of the blond, whose eyes were wide and fearful. Jesse noted with a rising sense of worry at the ashen color of Lukas' cheeks.

Lukas' eyes locked onto Jesse's. In the depths of those blue orbs, Jesse saw the scared, almost haunted, look in them. He recognized that look all too much. It was the look of a traumatized Warlord, a wounded soldier whose life was almost taken. He watched as Lukas' life seemed to flash within those haunted, wide eyes. Jesse distantly wondered if those were the same eyes that had smirked at him every year at the EnderCon competition.

Were they the same?

Because those eyes would've _never_ had that look in them that Lukas had right now.

"Lukas. Hey." Jesse gripped the blond's shoulder. Lukas started slightly, his eyes sharpening. "Lukas. Look at me."

Little by little, bit by bit, Lukas' eyes managed to focus on Jesse. "J-Jesse?"

"Yeah. I'm here, Lukas."

"That explosion. . ." Lukas breathed, his head turning almost instinctively towards the remains of flaming debris. "It almost - almost _killed_ me. Killed us."

This was worrisome. Now that the shock was wearing off, Lukas looked as though he would succumb to panic within seconds. "It - it almost. . . _killed_ me." His eyes flashed with hysteria, and his voice seemed to rise without realizing it. "It almost _killed_ me!"

"Lukas!" Jesse positioned himself in front of the blond, forcing the latter to look away from where the debris had almost hit. "Look at me."

Lukas' frightened blue eyes locked with Jesse's. In their depths, Jesse could see the fear snuffing out any thought of security, any sense of safety that this city had previously offered.

"It almost hit me," Lukas practically _whimpered._ "I-it almost -"

"But it _didn't_," Jesse countered firmly. He had to snap Lukas out of it, or the shock won't help Lukas dodge the next flaming explosion. Lukas' eyes were beginning to glaze over again; he was succumbing to the shock. "Lukas, _look at me!_"

Lukas seemed to snap out of it, at least for a moment. His eyes sharpened, and for a moment he looked confused as he stared at Jesse. "_Focus_," the latter stressed towards the blond, "or we won't make it out of here _alive!_"

_That_ seemed to snap Lukas out of it, this time a little bit more permanent. His eyes hardened with determination.

Jesse got back to his feet as another explosion went off, sounding like it was behind him. He instinctively ducked, but when he glanced back towards that house, it was far away enough for worry to be unwarranted. A quick glance around revealed that he was in the circular Town Center; houses surrounded space that served as the commons for the people.

From this area, he could see the gate being blown wide open, could see the mass of people streaming in. Even from here, he noticed the glint of metal against the flames rising from all around the city.

Dread twisted his stomach. This was _definitely_ the Bureau of Quarantine, come to lay waste to the city in the mountains.

_But why?_ That was a question that Jesse puzzled over, something that he has yet to figure out. They obviously weren't here to eliminate the Wither Sickness; they would've known if there were, considering how they were called the "Bureau of Quarantine" and all that.

Almost born out of his musings, Aiden's words came back, crystal clear: "_The Bureau will solve this. They always do. They can take out a freak like _you_."_

Jesse still flinched at the words, "_freak like you"_, but there was no time to worry about it. _Why_ had that particular memory come back in so much detail? Yes, it helped him figure out that the Bureau was coming, but was it _still_ significant?

His train of thought was interrupted when Petra charged towards him, her face set with determination. Trailing behind her was the innkeeper with whom Jesse had acquainted himself; Milo's eyes darted around nervously, and he was hunched over, making him seem smaller than he actually was.

"Jesse!" Petra skidded to a stop before him, panting heavily. "The Bureau - !"

"I know."

"Oh dear." Petra's and Jesse's heads snapped towards the innkeeper, who very much looked like he wanted to faint. Wringing his hands, Milo let out a nervous chuckle, his eyes continuing to dart around. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "This is an, ah, unfortunate turn of events."

"What gave it away?" Petra deadpanned. "The explosions or the people running in, waving swords?"

Milo glanced at her, his face betraying his unease. "Ah. . ."

"What are we going to do?" Jesse glanced over his shoulder to see Lukas striding up to them, his face set. The Warlord swore he saw a flash of gratitude pass through Lukas' eyes when they landed on him, but it passed too quickly for Jesse to be sure. "We need shelter," Lukas continued, waving his hand towards the chaos, "but with the explosions, it's getting harder to find any kind of cover."

At Lukas' words, Milo perked up. "I know a place where you can stay!" he declared excitedly. "And. . ." He lowered his voice. "It's not the type of place where most people would know, at first glance. And it's underground, which can protect us from the explosions!"

Jesse glanced over as _another_ explosion rang through the air and saw the civilians scattering, their faces fixed with fear. He turned quickly back to Milo. "Is it big enough to fit all the citizens?"

Now Milo frowned, the excited light disappearing from his eyes. "Well, yes, but -"

"Get everyone to safety," Jesse interrupted, looking towards Lukas and Petra, who nodded. He turned back to Milo. "If I'm correct, then that amount of space will be needed now more than ever."

Though Milo looked unhappy, he nodded his understanding. They all broke their group huddle and ran, weaving through the crowd and finding civilians to direct to safety.

As Jesse ran through the crowds, a flash of iron caught his eye. Frowning, he turned just as he saw a foot disappear through a wooden house.

He sized up the building. It was a simple one-story house, with a wooden door as the only thing that seemed to be the way in or out.

_Trap_, his brain immediately supplied. Jesse turned, about to walk away.

Perhaps.

But what if it was the leader of the Bureau?

Jesse halted mid-step, turning again to survey the building again.

There was a good - almost guaranteed - chance that this was truly a trap, that this was Aiden or another Bureau member trying to lure him in to attack him.

But if it was the leader of the Bureau. . .

Jesse reasoned that they couldn't harm him, even _if_ it was a trap. He was a Warlord; his enhanced health helped protect him from even the most fatal wounds from ordinary swords.

_Ordinary,_ the voice reminded. _What if they have enchanted weapons?_

Subconsciously, Jesse's fist tightened on the hilt of the sword his father had given him.

There wasn't a high chance of them having one; sure, maybe Mevia, but Jesse's warrior skills could oust her exponentially. He had a high chance of surviving an encounter, even if they had enchanted weapons or were trying to ambush him.

_If there's a chance that I can make this all stop,_ Jesse reminded himself, _then I have to try._

The voice fell silent.

With conviction in his heart, a thirst for justice, and confidence in his skills and enhancements, Jesse ran inside the wooden house.

* * *

**A/N Well. Jesse is getting himself into a_nother_ mess.**

**Again.**

**Hope you enjoyed! Life's being icky rn, but I'm glad I was even able to get this chapter out at all!**

**From here, for Jesse at least, it's all gonna snowball downhill.**

**Stay tuned! Reviews and constructive criticism appreciated and needed, as always!**

**Cya!**


	18. Fighting (Foes)

**Response to Reviews:**

**idontwritetoomuch: No worries 'bout it! ;) / Yeah, that pretty much sums up everything that's happening lol XD / Don't worry, I don't plan on killing anyone important soon (or am I? *wiggles eyebrows mischevously*) / Haha, you too! / Wow, I hope you get better! I'm so glad you're invested in this story :D**

**lucysnuffle: I'm glad! ^^ / YeAAUUp, after this event, Jesse'll DEFINITELY need another smack from Petra / Funny story, actually: as soon as I saw this review posted, I went back and cut out some stuff, along with replacing it with other stuff. When I used the Ctrl + F to find all the -ly adverbs, I was like, "Oh my Notch, did I really use so many of these?!" :O So THANK YOU for pointing that out, and I sincerely (there I go again lol) hope that this chapter's better! / "Existing on this mortal plane"? XD I _love_ that; that's awesome. Oh, and you too!**

_Northern: Okay, so we're back to see what Jesse'll find in that abandoned house._

_Lukas: I've said it once, and I'll say it again: Jesse. . .is an IDIOT!_

_Northern: Whoa, never thought you were the shouting type, Lukas. . ._

_Lukas: I - it's - *sputtering continues* I just feel VERY strongly about Jesse having literally ZERO common sense!_

_Northern: Okay, that IS true. . ._

_Northern:_

_Northern: Ahem, storytime!_

**WARNING! Mentions of blood and strangulation ahead!**

* * *

Jesse crept into the small wooden house, his sword poised and ready for combat. He had to be cautious; one wrong move, and he would alert whoever was in here.

If he was the leader of the Bureau, then this was Jesse's chance to interrogate him with the one question that had been burning in his mind, ever since the Bombings of EnderCon, ever since the stories of devastation that wrought the land that was the Bureau's doing, the stories that he heard from countless survivors as they fled to the End.

_Why?_

_Why_ was the Bureau doing all this? Yes, it is called the "Bureau of Quarantine" for a reason, but destroying towns just because of the Wither Sickness? It should be _containing_ the virus, not letting it spread all over, just to destroy populated areas and kill people.

Something was amiss. . .

Before Jesse could pursue his train of thought further, a small metallic _clang!_ resounded. The hair on the back of his neck erected. _It's behind me!_ His instincts kicking in, the former Warlord threw himself to the side as an enchanted iron blade slammed down on where he had been a second ago, barely missing it by a hair.

Jesse struggled to recollect his thoughts before pain stabbed him in his left shoulder. Grunting, he whipped out a dagger and stabbed down, eliciting a howl of pain. The squelch of a blade sliding out of flesh indicated that the blade had been withdrawn from his shoulder, and the hybrid Ender shot to his feet and pulled himself out of his attacker's grasp. He turned, brandishing his sword.

That's when he saw who his attacker was. His heart dropped into his stomach, and his eyes widened.

Aiden.

_Aiden was attacking him!_

Aiden was limping slightly, thanks to the wound Jesse inflicted, although it was a shallow wound; Jesse made sure of it. Even so, the green-eyed boy was staring at him with a murderous expression, not unlike Warlords whom Jesse had taunted.

Looking at that type of expression on Aiden unsettled the former Warlord; that look in those eyes, the animalistic curl in those lips, the storm of hatred on that face - none of that should belong onto a civilian's face.

And yet all of them were displayed on the face Aiden wore as he stared at Jesse with what the latter assumed to be unbridled hatred.

"_You._"

Just one word. Even then, the half-Ender could sense the deep-set anger, the growl in his voice with just the utterance of that one word.

Who knew that one word could say so much more than a whole speech?

Aiden sneered at him. "I hope you're happy," he spat.

Jesse lowered his sword, hoping to appear nonthreatening. "Happy with what?" he inquired cautiously. He had to be careful when talking with the boy; Aiden was clearly unstable. One wrong word, one wrong sentence, and the former bully's fury would be unleashed in an explosion.

"All this!" Aiden gestured around him. "You ruined my life, did you know? You _stole_ Lukas, _our_ friend, when we needed him most! Because of _you_ -" He peered at Jesse with unadulterated hate. "- _Maya_ died."

Jesse held back a flinch. _You killed her. Killed them all._

And just when my life was getting better -" The boy let out a cackle that unnerved Jesse. "- _you_ come prancing in _my_ city, begging the Founder to give you refuge, like the coward you are!"

_Coward. Selfish._

"But instead of sending you away, like a good Founder should. . ." Aiden's eyes flashed, "she decided to _grant_ your request, despite being nothing but a troublemaker, as I'm sure she saw," he added snidely. Jesse clenched his teeth, willing his tongue to still and wanting to hear the rest of Aiden's rant.

"I hope you're happy with taking Lukas away from us! I bet you were glad when you heard that Maya died! You're just _so_ proud of yourself for fooling the Founder into trusting you!" Aiden's sword flashed in the dim light of the house, and the boy's eyes had a crazed glint in it that sent alarm bells clanging in Jesse's head.

_By Notch, he really _is _going insane._

Jesse lowered his sword in an effort to placate the raving teen. "Aiden," he began calmly. He saw Aiden flinch violently at his spoken name, but Jesse plowed on. "I will never say that I wished any harm on you, because it's not true."

"But you did," Aiden whispered, shaking his head. "You did you did you DID!" His scream echoed throughout the house. Given that the house was made of wood, the echoes disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"But I didn't," Jesse refuted again, deliberately changing his tone so that it was soothing.

Aiden backed away from Jesse, shaking his head violently. "Why should I trust anything that comes from that - that mouth of yours?" he snarled, his eyes wild. "You speak nothing but lies; you _wanted_ Maya to die; you _wanted_ me to suffer; you _wanted_ to turn _everyone against me!_ And you have the _nerve_ to refuse that you hadn't wanted it?" A sharp cackle rose from the boy and dissipated as quickly as it had come.

Jesse marveled at the boy in front of him sadly; was this how Aiden saw _him?_ As nothing more than a bully who wanted to cause pain, who wished harm on him? As far as Jesse remembered, he hadn't ever wanted to cause Aiden harm. True, Aiden was a little on the _annoying_ side at times, but compared to what Jesse had seen, Aiden was nothing.

So Jesse had brushed him off. Treated Aiden coolly. He often dismissed Aiden's insults, because they weren't all that impactful.

Was what he had done. . .did that give Aiden the impression that Jesse had actually been _planning_ to make him suffer? Did he _really_ think that the half-Ender was so bothered by the insults?

_If only he knew._

Jesse shook his head. "You're wrong."

Aiden peered sharply at him, his eyes narrowed in distrust.

The Warlord sheathed his sword, gazing at the unstable boy in front of him, willing him to _understand_. "I never wanted you to be hurt," he whispered.

The boy said nothing.

Jesse stepped slowly, trying not to disturb the boy. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Look, Aiden. . ." He took a deep breath. "I never thought of you as an enemy."

Aiden's head shot up at that.

"True, you insulted us, and true, you tried to assert dominance over us," Jesse conceded, "but you and I weren't enemies. Only rivals."

Aiden lowered his sword by a fraction. "What's the difference?" His voice was hoarse after all the shouting.

The half-Ender planted his next foot forward, Aiden continuing to watch him warily. "The difference," Jesse explained, "is that we were competing with each other. We never were out for each others' blood."

Aiden narrowed his eyes again. He raised his sword. "How do _I_ know that _you_ weren't out for _our_ blood?"

Step. "If I was out for your blood," the former Warlord pointed out, "then I would've killed you, here and now."

The other boy shifted, as if knowing it to be true yet trying not to acknowledge it as such.

Jesse stopped, only inches away from Aiden now. He stared into the other boy's eyes, trying to will Aiden to _understand_ what he was trying to convey. "I never wanted Maya to die," Jesse pleaded. "I never wanted _any_ of you to die." He peered at the boy, who was gazing at him with an odd look in his eyes that Jesse had never seen before: _uncertainty_. "Do you believe me?"

For a moment, they stared at each other; two former rivals, one considering the other's words, the other looking expectantly at the first. The second waited for the first to lower

Then Aiden's eyes hardened. They glinted with something that Jesse didn't like the look of: _vengeance._ "You might've not wanted us to die," Aiden snarled, "but you took Lukas from us. You _let_ Maya die, and you brought the Bureau of Quarantine to this city's doorstep!"

Jesse only had time to protest in his mind, _Aren't _you _the one who called them here? _when Aiden snarled, "You deserve to be punished for RUINING MY LIFE!" With a roar, he flew at the Warlord, teeth gnashing.

Jesse snapped into action, whipping out his sword and blocking Aiden's slashing blade with a _clang!_ The two were at a standstill, each pushing against the interlocked blades. Jesse grasped wildly for a way to bring this battle to his advantage, running through different strategies his Warlord background and Ender sword training provided.

One in particular stood out: a move his Warlord instructor had once taught. Jesse rotated his blade and forced Aiden's blade to move along with his until the iron blade was positioned vertically and the Ender blade horizontally. Quick as lightning, Jesse sidestepped while brushing his sword aside, relinquishing his resistance to Aiden.

Aiden, caught off-guard, fell through and slammed his sword through the wooden floor. Splinters flew everywhere, but Jesse disregarded them as he lashed out with his blade, leaving a flesh wound on Aiden's shoulder.

As the boy yowled in pain, Jesse took a quick moment to assess ways to escape the situation: he could either teleport out of here, run past Aiden, or stand and finish the fight. Teleportation was out of the question; Jesse could still feel the exhaustion for trying to save the Founder from death by falling/death by impalement of trees.

Though Jesse knew he could escape the fight (_just run past him, reach the door, bust it open, run_), he couldn't bring himself to do that. As a Warlord, there was one rule that stuck with him throughout the ages that he cherishes in his heart to this day: _never run from a fight. Finish what you started._ This was one fight that Jesse must tackle head-on, a fight that he had to bring closure on.

(_that's more than what you did to face Herobrine_)

(_coward_)

Jesse's thoughts were interrupted when Aiden pulled his blade out with a roar. The boy turned on the Warlord, eyes blazing, and he swung.

Jesse countered, blocking the slash, before spinning with his own attack. Aiden barely managed to dodge to the side before he thrust out his sword, trying to impale the half-Ender.

The duel was more like a deadly dance; back and forth they went: one attacked, the other defended or dodged before lashing out with his own attack, forcing the first to dodge or defend himself. They flowed with movement, pushing and pulling like the tides would, extending and receding.

Jesse distantly marveled at his and Aiden's surprisingly-graceful attacks; this duel was nothing like the duels he would have with other Warlords. But he noted how the boy was becoming more frustrated at this equally-matched duel, from the way Aiden's face betrayed how infuriated he was.

Jesse could end it, end the duel with just the snap of his fingers. The problem was, he didn't _want_ to hurt Aiden; he only wanted to defend himself against the boy. Besides, a show of force wouldn't convince Aiden that Jesse was on his side.

So Jesse continued to watch Aiden closely, trying to see if Aiden would finally run out of steam, long enough for the Warlord to talk to the boy.

He only saw something snap.

Aiden let out a roar of frustration and anger that shook the house and advanced on Jesse with a flurry of attacks. Jesse barely managed to dodge and defend himself from Aiden's suddenly-aggressive attacks. The boy was merciless, surprising Jesse, and little by little, he gained ground.

Jesse's back hit something hard. The half-Ender looked over his shoulder to see that he had been backed into a wall. Panic tried to break at the stone-cold wall in his psych, but he held firm; he's been in worse situations than this.

Jesse looked up to see Aiden sneering at him. "Nowhere for you to run now, _freak_," he spat. He raised his sword over his head. . .

And Jesse flung himself to the side as Aiden slammed the blade into the ground. The Warlord surged upwards, flipping over the shocked boy, landing perfectly behind the latter. Just as he turned, a searing pain flamed to life in his chest. He stiffened, feeling his eyes widen in shock, and he looked down to see an iron blade piercing him.

Jesse looked up to see Aiden regarding him with narrowed eyes. Jesse searched the boy's for something: remorse, maybe, or shock at stabbing another human. But, to his dismay, all Jesse saw was a grim, grisly determination.

As soon as Aiden slid the blade out, Jesse slumped down, fire spreading through his veins, and absently watched as blood trickled down his armor, splattering on the wooden floor. His ears were ringing, his vision fuzzy.

Distantly, he could hear Aiden panting, could hear him breathe, "Well. . .that should've done the trick."

Blood started flowing slowly from the wound, climbing down, down, down, before hitting the wooden floor, staining it an ugly brown.

Without warning, his vision sharpened, which brought the unfortunate side-effect of dizziness. The ringing in his ears faded until he could clearly distinguish one sound from another. The fire in his veins faded away, the sharp pain reduced to a mere throb, before there was nothing there at all. He could _feel_ his body knitting him back together, soothing his pain.

He straightened and took a deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. There was no pain, no agony, _nothing_ that would hinder him. _Thank you, Warlord enhanced health!_

He looked up to see horror in Aiden's gaze. His opponent gasped in shock, eyes wide, and he started trembling as Jesse rose from the ground. "No. . .that's not _possible_. . .!" Jesse noted with a certain sadness how Aiden yelped, how his eyes filled with fear.

"I'm sorry, Aiden." Jesse breathed out. He truly was remorseful for what he had to do, but he _has_ to stop the unstable boy. "But you've forced my hand."

Aiden, perhaps out of fear or shock or even anger for failing to kill Jesse, swung his sword at the former Warlord.

Jesse felt as though he was on autopilot. Instincts took over, and he slammed his sword into the ground. A purple-glowing, solid object in the shape of a shield rose from the ground, flickering to life just as Aiden's blade made contact with it.

A bright flash of purple filled the house, and Jesse shut his eyes in an effort to stave off the blinding light. When he opened his eyes, Aiden was sprawled unceremoniously on the ground, his sword blown right out of his hand and resting out of the boy's reach. Aiden's head jerked up, eyes wide, as Jesse towered over him.

For a moment, Aiden's eyes hardened with heart-held hatred. "I bet you're so proud of yourself, _Jesse_," he spat. "Look at me! Beaten once more by a soul so pathetic as _you_!" Then he slumped over, his eyes softening so all they showed was resignation. "Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?"

Jesse took a pause, looking down at the now-prone boy. Memories flashed in his head: of Aiden, throwing insults at him and his friends; of his sneering at them every year when the Ocelots would win each and every competition; of his obvious despising everytime one of them mention the Ocelots as "Lukas and the Ocelots."

And yet. . .there was something. . ._sad_ about the green-eyed boy. Despite all of Aiden's shortcomings, Jesse never thought that Aiden ever deserved to die, even while the latter was trying to kill the half-Ender.

"Well?" Aiden's head shot up, eyes blazing. "Kill me! Unless you're too scared to do it!"

That's when Jesse made his decision. "No." He sheathed his sword.

Aiden growled, turning his head away. "Coward."

Jesse frowned at the boy's muttered word, but he stepped closer to Aiden before kneeling in front of the boy. "You know what, Aiden?" Jesse asked him. He didn't want to be so blunt when Aiden was so broken, but he _had_ to tell his former rival. "You're pathetic."

Aiden whipped his head around, eyes venomous. Before he could say anything, Jesse held up a hand. "Let me finish," Jesse commanded firmly. Much to his surprise, Jesse watched the green-eyed boy shut his mouth and nod mutely towards the former, encouraging the former to continue.

"What's pathetic about you is that you're willing to blame others for _your_ misfortunes." Aiden glowered at him, but Jesse plowed on. "_Yes_, I know that you're grieving, and _yes_, I know that you didn't deserve _any of this_ -" He gestured expansively, keeping his eyes locked on Aiden's. "- but instead of rising above the ashes of your tragedy and grief, you kept yourself trapped in your own cage, always angry, always finding ways to pin the blame on people who didn't ever have a hand in these tragedies.

"I'm not going to kill you for two reasons: one -" Jesse held up a finger, eyeing his former rival. "- I think you can change. Scratch that, I _know_ you can change. I _know_ you can let go of your bitterness and move on. That doesn't mean," Jesse added as he saw the protestation in Aiden's eyes, "that you forget Maya. Yes, she's gone, but that doesn't mean you should forever wallow in the pain that she's gone. What would she want you to do -" He intentionally softened his voice. "- to forever hate those who weren't a part of that, or to go one with life?

"And two -" Up went the second finger. "- the reason why you _wanted_ me to kill you is, to put it quite frankly, cowardly. You wanted me to kill you, not because you thought you deserved it, but because you want to be spared the embarrassment for being beaten by me. In other words," Jesse reiterated, "you wanted to die, not for redemption, but out of pride."

Aiden cast his eyes to the ground.

Jesse sighed, shaking his head. "Just so you know," he added gently, "what I said before was all true; I never thought that you, of all people, deserved to die." Jesse rose to his feet, observing Aiden's reaction.

Aiden gazed at him, still mute, with indecipherable emotions swirling in his eyes. When it was clear that Aiden wouldn't do more than that, Jesse opened his mouth, about to bid Aiden a farewell. . .

And the bang of a door barging open sounded behind him. Before Jesse knew it, he was pinned to ground by what felt like multiple bodies. Jesse strained his eyes to seek out Aiden, wondering if the boy had been jumped.

Much to his relief, there was no one on Aiden, although the boy was staring at him with fear in his eyes. Aiden opened his mouth, about to say something. . .

And then a foot stepped in Jesse's line of vision. Jesse strained his neck, tracing the foot up the legs and body to. . .

"Hadrian," Jesse snarled.

Hadrian knelt down so his face was in Jesse's. He clucked his tongue. "My my, sport." He grinned, showing off his infuriatingly-perfect teeth. "Never expected you to look so beat up."

"Yeah, well -" Jesse grunted as his arms were forced behind his back. Cuffs locked into place on his wrists. "Comes with retreating from the End and then running up to the highest city in the world," he snarked.

Hadrian hummed disapprovingly. "I see that your sarcasm is as intact as ever," he muttered.

"Me, sarcastic? _Never_."

Hadrian harrumphed. "Well, in order to shut you up, howabout this next piece of information to spoil your good mood, eh?" His face was pushed up to Jesse's face, forcing the Warlord to smell the leader of the Bureau's minty breath. "We have two of your friends."

Subconsciously, Jesse stopped struggling, openly staring at Hadrian. The man continued, "Blond guy? Girl with red hair and fiery temper."

"Lukas. Petra," Jesse breathed. Immediately, he realized his mistake as Hadrian pulled away, peering with intrigue out the window.

"Lukas and Petra, eh?" Hadrian looked almost. . . _hungrily_ out. "Well, then. . .I'll have to make them. . . _useful_ to me somehow."

Fury scorched through Jesse, and he surged towards Hadrian, regardless of the agents who were trying to hold him back. "If you lay _one hand_ on them, I'll - !"

"You'll _what_?" Hadrian taunted. "What will _you_ do, you little freak of nature?"

Jesse opened his mouth, furious. . . and a hand clamped around his throat. Stopping, he realized that there was someone behind him, unbeknownst to him, who managed to get his hand around to Jesse's neck. But all thought fled when the agent began applying pressure, restricting the Ender's air supply.

Choking, Jesse struggled to break free of the man's grip, but with his hands tied behind him, getting them up to pry the fingers off was impossible. "Gaahhrrck!" Little by little, the hand squeezed until all Jesse could do was wheeze, desperate for air.

"Quickly! Get it on him!" As the hand strangling Jesse kept him in place, something was looped around his face. A heart-stopping second later, he realized it was a muzzle.

_No! I won't be taken in like a beast! I _refuse_!_ Jesse doubled his struggle, trying to break free of the agents as some of them secured the muzzle. Even with his strength, he was unable to break free of the hand that was choking him. Rapidly, his vision darkened, but even through this failing conscious, he saw Hadrian staring down at Aiden, who was staring back up with fright.

"I must thank you for your helpful cooperation," Hadrian sneered. "Without your alerting to _his_ location -" Jesse saw Hadrian jab a thumb towards the muzzled half-Ender. "- we would've spent ages trying to find him."

Jesse tried even more at that to try and break free from the agents' grips, to rip off the muzzle and unleash a Warlord's fury on all of them. His muscles were beginning to slow, felt sluggish, as the lack of oxygen started affecting his muscles. Finally giving up on trying to break free, he fought to keep his eyes open.

Hadrian knelt down in front of him, looking down at him with a triumphant sneer. "Oh, don't worry," he chuckled. "We'll take _good_ care of all three of you."

Desperate now, Jesse shifted his eyes to Aiden, who was rapidly mouthing something at the Ender, although his mouth was going so fast that Jesse couldn't keep up, and as his hearing was reduced to tinnitus ringing. Even so, he only managed to catch one word:

_I'm sorry,_ Aiden had said.

And then Jesse's vision went black.

* * *

**A/N So I thought it would be fun to show one of Jesse's Warlord powers in this little skirmish that he had, just because we keep going over that he IS a Warlord, yet I never actually displayed it.**

**So. . . fun times!**

**Let me know if this chapter seemed rushed; I'm sorry if it is, but I can't really properly describe a good fight. I'm that type of person who just has to _see_ a fight to know what people are talking about XD :,)**

**Also, I find this story to be ironic, considering the whole coronavirus issue that's going on and how this story has a world-ending Withersickness plague as the driver for the plot. . .**

**I hope that all of you are okay! While we're weathering out the storm, I decided to provide you something to entertain yourself with! Stay safe, stay healthy, and don't die!**

**Reviews and constructive criticism appreaciated!**


	19. Taken

**WARNING! Implications of suicide**

* * *

The first senses that returned to Jesse were his sense of hearing and feeling.

The whistle of the wind in Jesse's ears was the only indication to himself that he was somehow still alive. Past the biting cold and the torrents of air that pummeled him, he could hear chains rattling in the wind, could feel cold metal binding his arms and around his face.

The second thing he noticed was that he was being carried; his hands were tied behind his back, and he was being hauled by two rough hands, each on his sides and gripping his upper arm.

He also felt a deep, bone-chilling _cold_, the kind whose effect only the icy tundras are able to produce. And Jesse has been to _many_ tundras before.

But there was something. . . missing. Jesse felt it nagging in his brain, some memory or thought that screamed its importance, yet he couldn't recall at the moment. His brain felt inoperable, and he had no desire to open his eyes just yet, lest he becomes overwhelmed with sensory overload, and he wasn't sure he could handle it.

He kept his eyes shut, although the little thoughts in his brain were ever still screaming for his attention. Stupid, little, annoying thoughts.

How did he get to an icy tundra? (_keep your brain on at all times_) He can't recall the events that led up to his being dragged way out in the maddening cold. (_never let your guard down_) Flashes of memory passed through his mind, disappearing just as fleetingly as they had come. (_in battle, you must be aware at all times_)

A city in the mountains.

(_if you aren't, the enemy will take advantage of you_)

A ruler with golden robes and cold, hard eyes.

(_not just in battle either_)

The corner of a cloak disappearing.

(_they will try to knock you out_)

A boy with cold, green eyes.

(_they will try to disorient you_)

An insane smile.

(_they will disrupt your sense of reality_)

An exploding creeper.

(_but only if _you _let them_)

The ruler, falling into oblivion.

(_they will even try to knock you out_)

Teleporting back to safety.

(_so when that happens_)

Fireballs raining down in the sky.

(_WAKE UP!_)

Jesse's eyes flew open as the Ender's memory lane sped up. He remembered _everything_ now. He remembered his duel with Aiden, remembered being jumped by agents of the Bureau, remembered. . .

_Hadrian._

Even thinking his _name_ sent shivers down Jesse's spine. Though Hadrian isn't a threat in terms of physical prowess (Jesse was fairly certain he could defeat the man in combat), his main attack strategy was to get into his prey's head, mess with them, manipulate them into doing what he _wanted_ them to do.

And Jesse knew this.

Even though Jesse has had mental training (resulting from years of Warlord training) to prevent himself from breaking, Hadrian knows _exactly_ which buttons to push, what exactly gets Jesse riled up or sobbing on the floor.

And Jesse. . . was not exactly looking forward to the experience.

One of the agents (_A guard,_ Jesse noted) who was gripping the Warlord's arm seemed to notice that Jesse was awake. The agent was heavily armored, his face concealed by a knight helmet. "Looks like the freak's awake," he sneered.

Jesse flinched yet again at the term, "freak."

"Y'know, people like _you_ aren't meant to exist. You're nothing but a mistake." Jesse lowered his eyes to the ground, the words hitting a little too close to home. "I can't _wait_ to see what Hadrian does with you!"

Jesse barely registered the last part. The statement the guard had jeered before struck him, piercing him to his very core. It impaled his heart like an arrow, cracking everything open for all the world to see. And though he hated it (_HATED it, hated the feeling of helplessness and vulnerability_), he allowed it to happen.

Because the guard was right.

_**You see? Even your **_**enemies** _**think you're a mistake!**_

_Oh. It's you again._

_**Well, what did you expect?**_

Jesse didn't say anything. They were right, they were right _theywererighttheywereright._ Why is he still alive? All he truly was was a mistake. He isn't _meant_ to exist. He isn't _meant_ to be alive.

He doesn't _deserve to be alive!_

The torrent of memories that had quieted over time now rushed through him, crashing and roiling and crushing every other thought in his head. **You** _**caused her death,**_ the voice jeered. **You **_**were the coward. **_**You** _**ran from your responsibility for saving the world.**_

_I'm not running now,_ Jesse snarled back mentally.

_**Ah, but it's too late!**_ the voice cackled. _**Think of all the lives you would've saved. Think of everyone who has died, think about what would have been if YOU hadn't run away, going and traipsing on in the End with your daddy!**_

Jesse was struck speechless. The voice was right.

_**Of course I am,**_ it crooned. _**I'm **_**always** _**right.**_

_**And I'm right. . . when I say that all you'll ever be is a burden, a freak, a nobody, a **_**nothing!**

_**I bet that's what Aiden thought when **_**you** _**took Lukas, leaving Maya to die.**_

_**I bet that's what your friends were thinking when **_**you** _**got them captured.**_

_**I bet that's what Reuben was thinking when **_**YOU** _**killed him.**_

Jesse shrunk away, breath catching in his throat. A cataclysm of emotions erupted within him, fighting for control: anger, hate, sorrow, pain, torment, disgust, fury. All of them, directed towards himself. All of them, reminding him of the little pig that had laid on the stone floor, the blood running from his little body, the life draining out of him.

His fault.

_His fault._

_**His fault.**_

_**MY**_ _**FAULT!**_

"Lay him off." The voice of a newcomer snapped Jesse out of his reverie. But deep in the back of his mind, the voice receded, throwing out one last ominous message: _**I'll be back.**_

_**I always am.**_

Jesse craned his neck towards the source of the voice, which turned out to be the other person who was dragging him along. He was a dark-skinned person with a gladiator build, and he had a small horned helmet on the top of his head. Apart from that, he wore dark-gray armor, with the Bureau symbol imprinted on the chestplate.

The gladiator frowned at the guard next to him. "Hadrian'll deal with him soon enough," he told the guard. "Don't mess with the boy."

The guard huffed but otherwise kept his silence. Jesse glanced at the hulking figure and opened his mouth to thank the gladiator.

Jesse could only hear harsh garble as he tried to speak. He frowned in confusion, then realized with a sickening twist in his stomach that he had a muzzle over his mouth, obscuring any effort to speak.

Did they think of him as such a beast to go so far as to put a muzzle on him, as if he were nothing more than a rabid dog or a fox?

Still, his garbled words seemed to catch the gladiator's attention. For a moment, the hulking person's gaze was confused as it flickered over Jesse. Jesse did his best to portray his gratitude through his eyes, though he doubted it did anything. Still, the chained-up Warlord could see the gladiator's gaze soften ever so slightly.

"Don't thank me," the gladiator warned in a low tone so that only Jesse could hear. "Hadrian's gonna do something to you, and I'm not sure that it's gonna be all puppies and rainbows."

Jesse resisted the urge to snort. _My life has been anything BUT puppies and rainbows._

He craned his neck, straining to look in front of him. He seemed to be in a procession of agents who were trekking through the snow. He could see Petra's striped bandana and Lukas' blond hair, and for a second he was worried that Hadrian might've done something to them while he was knocked out.

But his worries were wiped away when the procession suddenly stopped. Jesse gazed upward, his eyes taking in the vast cavernous opening on the side of the large, snowy mountain, with glowstone lamps hanging from the ceiling. With a gaping maw that led to a murky darkness on the other side, as well as the few guards positioned around the cave, it was truly a sight to behold.

From the way everyone halted, he can only assume. . .

"We're here," the gladiator muttered. Slowly, the procession marched forward, about to head into the murky black of what Jesse has deduced to be the Bureau's base; its main base, by how grand the entrance was.

Before they were swallowed by the darkness, Jesse swore that the gladiator whispered, "Good luck, squishy."

Then they were in.

* * *

Jesse grunted as he was unceremoniously tossed into a dungeon cell. Immediately, he struggled to his knees just as the cell door closed. He glared after the warden, who merely looked bored, as the latter walked away.

"Jesse?"

The Warlord whirled around to see Lukas and Petra in his cell. For a moment, the three of them just stared at each other.

Jesse was confused. Why would Hadrian deliberately put the three of them in this cell? He knows by now that they're friends, and being together makes everything less bearable.

Or maybe. . .

Jesse jolted with a sickening, dawning realization. Maybe Hadrian was going to use _them_ against the Ender. Jesse honestly couldn't care less if Hadrian were to kill him, but if Hadrian touched his friends. . .

Gruesome scenarios were already running through his head. Of Hadrian, torturing his friends and then having them sent here, taunting Jesse that there was nothing he could do to stop the Head of the Bureau.

Jesse hated feeling useless.

He _hated_ it.

(_**but that's what you are, isn't it?**_)

"They put a _muzzle_ on you?" Jesse snapped his attention back to Petra, whose face was twisted in a look of rage.

She wasn't alone: Lukas' face had also darkened. "I'm gonna find that creep and—" Lukas hissed out a bunch of threats, some of which surprised Jesse; he hadn't thought of Lukas as the violent type.

"Count me in," Petra snarled.

Jesse tried to raise his hands in a placating gesture, only to remember that his hands were tied behind his back. He rolled his eyes and tried to say, "It's no big deal," but all that came out was, "_Mmf mm mmg meel."_

Petra growled sharply. "When I get my hands on him—"

"Hands on _whom?_"

Jesse straightened, a chill going down his spine at the all-too familiar voice. Slowly he turned to see Hadrian's eyes, glittering dangerously even in the dim lighting.

Petra and Lukas froze, though Jesse wasn't sure whether they did so out of fear or out of fury.

Hadrian apparently thought they did so out of fear. "Go on, I'm listening," he goaded.

Petra's and Lukas' faces slowly reverted back to their furious state, and Jesse could see their minds running along with insults (_don't_) but before they could say anything, Hadrian heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Nothing? I'm actually quite disappointed."

Petra opened her mouth, her eyes shining with rage, but Hadrian cut in again. "Oh well." He turned his gaze on Jesse. The Ender couldn't help but shiver at the cold sadism that rested in that gaze, chilling him to the very core. "Looks like the Ender is back in my possession," he sneered, his gaze sharp and dark. "Don't have your great _Enderking_ to help you now, eh, sport?"

Jesse could feel Petra's heated stare and Lukas' curious gaze, but he kept his defiant gaze on the purple-suited man. He refused to acknowledge his friends, staring down at the man. _Don't bring them into this. It's just him and me._

Apparently, Hadrian thought differently. "My, my, sport." He clasped his hands to his chest in mock hurt. "Didn'tcha tell your friends about me?" He chuckled, leaning his face towards Jesse's, pausing only because of the iron bars. "Well, I've gotta thank you for that. Otherwise, they would know what would happen to them. That would ruin the surprise now—" He dropped his voice into a low tone. "—wouldn't it?"

Jesse's blood ran cold at the implications.

Hadrian chuckled, straightening his back. "But-ah, y'know, it _is_ your fault for not warning them in the first place, kiddo."

Jesse could barely breathe; his mind was going at a million miles per hour, and the only coherent thoughts he could produce was, _No, no no!_

Hadrian paused, glancing over at Jesse. The Ender reckoned he himself must've had some expression on, because Hadrian adopted a fake look of incredulity. "What, you thought you could escape from _me_, sport?"

Hadrian crouched on the ground, maintaining his gaze on Jesse. The latter felt trapped, unable to tear his gaze away from the man's eyes. There was a certain hunger in those black (_dark cold suffocating_), as if Hadrian were a snake and Jesse the mouse.

"You will _never_ be able to escape from me, Ender," Hadrian hissed. "And you know why?"

Jesse remained transfixed on Hadrian's face. The old man grinned, his teeth pearly white and reflective, even in the dimness of the dungeon.

"_Because you're a failure._"

Jesse flinched away from Hadrian before lowering his head. A torrent of memories flooded his mind, reminding him over and over and _over_ again of that fateful day, that fateful mission. Though they had succeeded, it was not without cost. Jesse had locked up the memory inside of him, barred him from ever remembering it.

But now the floodgates were open; the dam was broken. Jesse squeezed his eyes shut, feebly trying to bat away the memories that had haunted him until he suppressed them.

Hadrian was right, and in more ways than one.

_**You can't do anything right!**_ The voice was back. _**You got them killed! Every. Single. One!**_

Flashes of all his past failures resurfaced, cruelly beating his psyche down until Jesse felt as if he would crack open. _**Jessi, Reuben, those citizens who succumbed to the Wither, and now. . .**_

_**You ran away from those memories like the COWARD you are. But it changes **_**nothing**_**!**_

_**It will **_**never** _**change the fact that all you are good for is destruction.**_

**You** _**killed them. ALL of them!**_

_**And now. . . your friends will be the next to die from **_**your** _**mistakes.**_

_**What makes you think you **_**deserve** _**to live?**_

Jesse barely registered that Petra shot to her feet, eyes blazing with a fiery anger. "Get out!" she barked at Hadrian.

The man raised his hands in mock innocence. "All I'm saying is the truth."

"GET OUT!" Surprisingly, Lukas was the one who yelled next, his blue eyes containing a coldness that was unlike him.

Hadrian merely shrugged. "If you insist."

Jesse barely registered that Hadrian had left, barely felt Petra's and Lukas' concerned stares at him. He continued to stare off into oblivion, reality falling away into what felt like a dream.

_Failure._

_Coward._

_Weak._

_Selfish._

_Undeserving of love._

He absently flexed his fingers, continuing to stare off into the oblivion that was present in his mind's eye.

An oblivion only he could see.

An oblivion. . . only _he_ could be in.

Cold.

Alone.

* * *

**A/N *Insert cackling* I LIIIIIIIVVVVVVVEEEEEEEEEEEEE!**

**Whoo whee! Sorry about that, guys. Ahh, I was thinking that this quarantine would actually give me _more_ time to write, but then I got distracted and. . . yeah.**

**So I'm just tryna get back into the groove of writing, but just be patient, cuz it might take me some time.**

**Also, quick note: When I first wrote this story, it was mostly because I had an idea, but deep down, I was also writing to, in a way, vent my own emotions by incorporating them into Jesse.**

**Fast forward to now, with the whole quarantine: this time has actually given me time to self-reflect about myself, and thanks to that ability, I'm doing much, much better emotionally. The problem is, it's probably gonna impact the story's angst, because I was writing from my heart, but now. . . it's gonna be kinda hard scourging up emotions to incorporate into the story, so just bear with me. If I just REACH, then maybe I can find some stuff to put in XD**

**I mean, either that, or I've lost familiarity with this story XD But the angst in this chapter DOES have elements of my own angst, just. . . not as much.**

**Also, if you're curious, the shift to the bold italics was intentional :)**

**This chapter was a little shorter, mostly because I'm still finding my ground, partly because this chapter is more of a filler.**

**But I am BACK! And I hoped you enjoyed :))**

**Read, review, favorite, follow, do whatever you want!**

**Cya next time!**


	20. Torture

**Review Replies:**

**lucysnuffle: HOW DARE YOU BE LATE TO THE LAST CHAPTER— I'm just kidding XD / Thank you! I try XD / Yeah, this Hadrian is actually sort of based off of the Hadrian in Toni42's story _Movie Mode._ If you haven't checked it out yet, I _highly_ recommend it; it's awesome! But anyways, I'm glad I wrote him in a way that intrigued you!**

**Twenty chapters, guys! _Twenty. Chapters._**

**I can't believe this story is still going strong, to be honest. . .**

**WARNING! TORTURE SCENE UP AHEAD, SO PROCEED WITH CAUTION**

**(there's no. . . like actual blood or gore, but, well. . . it's kinda complicated. . .)**

**ALSO, IMPORTANT A/N AT THE BOTTOM!**

* * *

The minute the guards' metal boots began echoing through the dungeon halls, Jesse snapped wide awake, a consequence of his Warlord training.

He glanced over to see Petra groggily blinking awake and Lukas wiping the sleep from his eyes. His heart sunk as he recalled Hadrian's veiled threat towards his friends. Sure, Jesse himself could take on the purple-suited man, but Hadrian was a master manipulator: everything Jesse had tried against him would only come with heavy consequences.

The Ender hybrid could only pray and hope that Hadrian wouldn't choose _them_ as his torture subjects first.

Louder and louder do the footsteps echo, and with it, a sadistic promise, a promise that there's going to be pain. The echoes of screams rang in Jesse's ears as flashes of blood (_no, no more, stop it stop it __**stop it**_) splattering on the ground passed through the Warlord's eyes.

Appalled at the images (_**they all died**_), horrified at the deaths (_**who's to blame?**_), enraged at the sadism of the purple-suited man (_**they were left behind**_), terrified for his friends (_**who abandoned them?**_), guilt and shame rising in his throat as image upon image passed through, Jesse squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth against the moan rising in his chest.

Still, he must've made some sort of sound, because Lukas blearily asked, "Jesse?"

Jesse looked over at the blond, who was yawning. "You good there?" Jesse's former rival asked, a hint of sleepy concern seeping into his voice.

Jesse nodded once, and Lukas squinted at him, although Jesse wasn't sure if the blond was scrutinizing him or trying to see through the (what the Warlord would assume) blinding torch lights.

"Who's coming?" Lukas slurred.

Petra's eyes sharpened slightly, and the redhead growled. "If that's that guy again, I swear. . ."

Jesse shook his head rapidly, trying to quell Petra's anger, even though the redhead shot him an incredulous look. The _last_ thing he needed was to give Hadrian a reason to choose to torture Petra first.

Jesse didn't care if they tortured him or even killed him at all; as far as he was concerned, he deserved it. But if Hadrian lay _one finger_ on Petra or Lukas. . .

_Well_, Jesse thought grimly as Hadrian and his guards appeared in his sight, _we're about to find out._

Hadrian and the guards stopped in front of the dungeon cell. Jesse felt a shiver of apprehension go down his back when Hadrian's eyes lingered on him as the purple-suited man swept his gaze over his captives.

"Take the Ender," he spat.

Jesse breathed a silent sigh of relief as the door slid open, and the two guards lumbered in, making their way over to the chained Warlord.

Fear froze in Jesse's veins when Petra abruptly leaped up, suddenly wide awake. The look in her eyes scared him: it was a look of utter rage and disregard for herself. It was a look that proclaimed she wasn't afraid for herself, a look of self-sacrifice.

For _him._

"You leave him alone _right now!_" Petra snarled, leaping forward and pouncing onto one of the guards. At the same time, Lukas sprang to his feet and charged, tackling the other guard.

_No!_ Jesse moved to try and restrain them, but his jolting abruptly reminded him that the chains were still holding him in place. Heart pounding, Jesse could only watch, wide-eyed, as the first guard effortlessly threw Petra off his shoulders while the other guard kicked Lukas back. Jesse glanced over at Hadrian, almost afraid of the expression that would be etched onto the man's face.

Hadrian's expression froze the blood in Jesse's veins.

The leader of the Bureau had a strange look on his face that was a mix of sadistic curiosity and malicious intent. The way he peered at the two sent alarm bells ringing in Jesse's ears; Hadrian was regarding them coldly, as if he thought of them as nothing more than bunnies or creepers to use as test subjects.

Jesse's heart picked up speed when he saw the guard that had been tackled by Petra move towards them, and from the way he lumbered, the Ender suspected that the guard's intentions were vengeful at best. Frantic, he strained against his chains like a trapped dog, shouting at the guard to stop, although he suspected that all that they could hear was a garbled mess, filtered through that _cursed_ muzzle.

"That's enough." Jesse's stomach dropped at Hadrian's command, which caused the guard to halt his advance. Even so, a wave of relief washed over the Warlord: Petra and Lukas were safe.

For now.

When Hadrian leaned his head forward again, however, Jesse stiffened, breath catching in his throat. A turmoil of emotion roiled and seethed in his chest; the way Hadrian continued to stare at them. . . Jesse _knew_, beyond a shadow of a doubt that the purple-suited man was concocting some sort of plan.

"Very. . . interesting," the leader of the Bureau mused. His eyes glittered dangerously, and a slow, cold smile curled his lips. "You make some of the oddest companions, Ender." The purple-suited man turned, and the look in his eyes almost stopped Jesse's heart. "I can't wait to see what they're made of."

Jesse lunged towards Hadrian, fear melting into a hot, broiling anger at the implications that Hadrian hinted at. He halted from the chains keeping him in place, but that didn't stop him from shouting, "_Leave them alone!_" In the back of his mind, though, he knew that all his words would come out garbled, but that didn't stop him from thrashing and shouting at Hadrian.

Even when the two guards grabbed him and tried to force him down to subdue him, Jesse continued to bark threats at Hadrian and struggle against the might of the guards.

Hadrian didn't even look fazed. Instead, he tsked and peered down at the Warlord condescendingly; from the angle Jesse was at, Hadrian was tall enough to bend down, acting as though the Warlord was an insignificant bug.

The leader's condescending air only enraged Jesse more, prompting him to glare at the man and writhe against the guards' grips. But Hadrian's next words slammed against the anger gushing through him, turning it into a rigid, almost substantial terror. "Careful, Ender. . ." Hadrian's eyes darted towards Jesse's friends. "You wouldn't want anything to happen to them now. . . _do_ you?"

Jesse's breath caught in his throat. The Warlord realized Hadrian was right: no matter how much Jesse tried to fight back, Hadrian had the upper hand: Jesse and his friends were imprisoned under the former's corporation (corporation? "Criminal syndicate" is more like it), for crying out loud!

_**Did you think about that,**_ the voice sneered, _**when you decided to lunge at him like a feral dog? Did you think about how he could torture and kill them in the most vicious ways possible?**_ A flurry of images flashed through Jesse's head, too atrocious to even speak of. _**Do you even **_**think** _**before you act?**_

_**No wonder you got them all killed.**_

Jesse lowered his head as shame and guilt overwhelmed him, flooding his chest. He felt as though he could cry (_**Really? Pathetic.**_), but he steeled himself and took several deep breaths, trying to expel the emotion in his chest (_it feels like breathing in shards of glass_).

All that time, Jesse could feel Hadrian's cold gaze on him, could feel the man taking _pleasure_ in seeing how—how _weak_ the Warlord was.

Anger boiled inside Jesse—directed towards himself, for killing them all and for dragging Lukas and Petra into this mess, and towards Hadrian, for _daring_ to threaten them.

"_But-ah, y'know, it is your fault for not warning them in the first place, kiddo."_

Rage (with small hints of shame) bubbled in Jesse's throat.

_Notch_, how much he hated himself.

He lowered his head in a sign of submission towards Hadrian, however much he _despised_ it, _despised_ being weak and under the jurisdiction of that—that _man_.

(_**aren't you, though?**_)

But the greater part of him was terrified of what Hadrian was capable of in wake of Jesse's mistakes: he tortured and _killed_ experienced Ender soldiers, all because Jesse abandoned them. Ender soldiers, whose training allowed them to withstand even the worst kind of physical torture.

If Hadrian could kill them, how would Petra and Lukas stand a chance against him?

_**And it wouldn't have happened if **_**you** _**hadn't dragged them into this mess!**_ the voice cackled.

_Yeah, I realized that; would you shut up now?_ Jesse grumbled back. Still, a swell of guilt crashed against his sternum, eager to burst out for all the world to see.

Great. . . Jesse didn't need that image in his head.

He snapped back to the present when he felt the guards yanking harshly on his chains, forcing his feet into a stumbling walk as they escorted him out of the cell. Jesse glanced over to see Lukas's eyes wide with worry and Petra's enraged expression. Lukas seemed to plead to Jesse with his eyes, but what he was pleading, Jesse didn't know; he's only spent, what, a couple weeks with the blond?

Jesse could only stare back helplessly as the cell doors shut behind him. One of the guards jerked on the chains, forcing him to turn away, but even then he could hear the exchange between his friends and Hadrian.

The Ender registered the banging of a body against metal, and Petra's snarl: "You won't be able to get away with it!"

A condescending chuckle sounded, as well as Hadrian's sneering voice: "My dear, that clichéd phrase? But, if you are to insist…" Jesse felt a shiver go down his spine as Hadrian paused, fearing what the purple-suited man was going to say next.

"_I just did._"

Jesse's heart nearly stopped at the cold, dark tone of the words spoken, the chill of fear spreading through his bones and gripping his limbs.

He wondered how long he could keep Petra and Lukas from Hadrian's grasp before the leader could find a way to torture them.

* * *

Jesse jerked against the cuffs holding him in place, limbs splayed against the board. He writhed, struggling to free himself from the bonds that the Bureau scientists have placed him in. He distantly noted the bustling of activity around him, wholly focused on freeing himself.

Well, at least they removed the muzzle.

(_**Well, they probably did so to hear your cowardly scream.**_)

(_You're not helping!_)

Jesse turned his head when he caught sight of a purple suit, coming face-to-face with the white-haired, manipulative leader of the Bureau.

Hadrian twisted his expression into a faux pleased surprise. "Well, bucko, you've _finally_ accepted my invitation to my. . . surprise." His face twisted into a sneer. "The party _just_ wasn't the same without you, Ender."

"What do you want, Hadrian?" Jesse snarled, still writhing against his bonds.

Hadrian feigned shock and hurt. "Not even a pleasant greeting? I'm hurt." His face darkened, his lips curled into a wicked grin. "I thought you were _better_ than that, sport."

Jesse flinched, the words stabbing him more than they should have. Even though he managed to keep the memories at bay, the shame still flowed unrestrained within him, flooding his being.

_What is _wrong _with me?_

He looked over to see Hadrian wearing a smug smirk, as if knowing he hit a nerve with his words.

To keep himself from drowning in his regrets and sorrow, Jesse growled, "Cut to the chase, Hadrian."

Hadrian shrugged, unruffled. "Well, since you asked so _nicely_. . ." He strolled over so that he was in front of Jesse, unfortunately giving the Warlord a full view of Hadrian's sneering face. "What are you _looking_ for, sport?"

Jesse recoiled, caught off guard. Of all the questions he thought Hadrian would ask, he was not expecting _that_ question. "What do you mean?"

Hadrian scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Look at you, having to ask me 'what I mean.' I thought you were _smart_, Ender."

Jesse couldn't help but smile bitterly, his past failures flashing before his eyes. _You bet?_

Hadrian shook his head. "No, what I heard from Mevia was that _you_ were there, but instead of fighting us like the rest of the Enders, you were _fleeing_, like a _coward_."

Jesse sharply sucked in a breath, flashes passing through his mind quickly: not protecting Jessi from Furorem and being too scared to stand his ground, standing by as the world quickly fell to the Wither plague, running from the Bureau base and leaving behind good soldiers who _died_ by the hand of the very man standing right in front of him, fleeing the End, and standing by as he watched Reuben _die_ in front of him.

Hadrian continued on, seemingly unaware of the internal conflict Jesse was struggling with. "But then, a couple weeks later, I get a call from a guy who made his residency in _Sky City_, and lo and behold, _you_ were there too." He gave a condescending chuckle. "It _really_ begs the question, now…" He leaned forward, his eyes glittering with malicious curiosity. "_What_ were you doing in Sky City?"

Jesse stared stonily back at the man, not willing to let out any secret.

Hadrian pulled back, turning around. "Well, of course, you _could_ have been trying to escape Wither, which wouldn't make _much_ sense, considering how you had that all there when you made yourself a _permanent_ residence in the End." Jesse flinched at the underlying accusation Hadrian laced in his words.

"And you could _also_ have been trying to escape us—" Hadrian shook his head in mock disappointment. "—although I couldn't ever see why. And Sky City had been a _far_ long way to go.

"So _my_ understanding of the issue," Hadrian concluded, turning around to pin Jesse with a hard, probing gaze, "is that _you_ and your. . . companions were searching for something."

Jesse felt frozen under Hadrian's gaze. Most of their going to Sky City was to seek asylum, far from Herobrine, but the overarching plan _had_ been to find a cure to the Wither plague.

How did Hadrian figure out that they were looking for something?

Jesse realized that his expression must be betraying his own thoughts—and in doing so, confirming Hadrian's theory. He tried to revert back to impassiveness, but by then, it seemed it was too late.

"You _really_ thought I couldn't figure it out?" Hadrian gave a scornful chuckle. "Oh, sport, you truly _do_ underestimate me."

Hadrian leaned in. "Now, the only thing that I need to know. . ." His eyes lit up in a way Jesse didn't like: they were filled with a sadistic pleasure, an intention to abuse the knowledge should Jesse reveal it. "What are you searching for?"

Jesse kept silent, masking his expression into a stony glare. He steeled his resolve to keep the information withdrawn from the purple-suited man. Truth to be told, he wasn't sure _what_ Hadrian would do if he got the information, but seeing how devastating the Bureau had been in the past five months, all he could reason was that nothing good would happen.

Hadrian seemed to be waiting expectantly, although his eyes were dark with deadly intention. When Jesse didn't say anything, the man sighed, feigning resignation. "Nothing? I'm disappointed in you, sport. It's the _least_ you could do, considering how you dragged your friends into this. But I guess your reluctance to cooperate shows that you don't care about them enough to spare them the torture."

A surge of fear left Jesse frozen in place (not that he wasn't already).

_**So? Are you going to save your friends by revealing the information?**_ the voice sneered. _**Or are you going to be selfish and watch Hadrian slowly kill them?**_

Jesse felt as though his heart was being torn into a million pieces. There was that one part of him that wanted to cave him, that wanted to reveal the information so that Hadrian _wouldn't hurt his friends don't lay a finger on them—_

But there was the logical part in him that fought against his heart, whispering that _no, Hadrian wouldn't just let them go, even after Jesse revealed the information._ Besides, Jesse was an _Ender._ He would probably be killed anyways.

_**Screw your dying,**_ the voice snarled in his ear. _**Whatever it takes to save your friends from Hadrian's torture and killing. Unless you really **_**are** _**selfish.**_

_Hadrian isn't going to just up and release Petra and Lukas,_ the other voice in his head countered fiercely. _If you reveal the information, he will _still _torture and kill you—and wreak havoc on the world with _your _information! Are you really willing to be responsible for the end of the world?_

Jesse lifted his head to stare at the ceiling, the voices in his mind tearing at him to make a decision.

_Besides, who will protect Petra and Lukas if you die?_

"Well, sport?" Jesse jerked out of his thoughts at Hadrian's impatient voice. "What do you have to say?"

As Jesse stared at Hadrian, his mind still fighting against itself, he came to a conclusion: Hadrian wouldn't just _let_ Petra and Lukas go. He wouldn't stop until all _three_ of them—most of all Jesse—were dead, and if Jesse were to reveal what they were going to do, Hadrian would probably try and halt them tenfold.

_**The selfish way to go? Typical Formido.**_

Jesse flinched slightly at the internal dialogue, but he recovered quickly enough to glare at Hadrian.

"I. Will. _Never_. Tell. You," Jesse snarled.

Hadrian didn't even react to Jesse's spitting out the words. He merely shrugged, unruffled. "Suit yourself."

Suddenly, Jesse noticed movement underneath him. Confused, he glanced down. . . only to find water.

_Water!_ The Ender side of him immediately jumped up, screeching, ready to bolt, and almost instinctively, Jesse jolted, but the cuffs kept him tightly in place. He continued to struggle, almost against his will; it was as if his instincts had broken free of their restraints from logic, and Jesse was forced out of the driver's seat by those instincts. He felt his struggles increase tenfold, increasing in hysteria the more he stayed in place _right above the water why can't he get away he has to get away—_

Hadrian sneered, obviously relishing Jesse's weakness. "Enjoy your bath. . . _Ender_."

With that, the board suddenly dropped, leaving Jesse's stomach somewhere in the air as he submerged into the merciless liquid.

* * *

Jesse thrashed around, trying to pull his limbs free of the bonds. His lungs burned since he was unable to properly grab a breath before he went in.

Normally, Jesse found, when he submerged in water, all he felt was akin to pins and needles. Of course, that was _before_ he realized he was part Ender, and even then he always had an inexplicable fear of water.

Now? Jesse felt as though multiple daggers were tearing into his skin, digging into his flesh and puncturing his organs. Jesse was honestly surprised when he glanced down and saw that no blood was coming out of his slashed, stabbed body.

Black dots danced in front of his eyes, the lack of oxygen coupled with the _agony of the daggers why won't it stop make it stop MAKE IT STOP!_

Jesse strained to break free, but his limbs were growing heavier. What was happening? Was he growing weaker, or were the bonds just too strong to break through?

Was this what dying felt like?

Though his limbs weren't registering, the pain was just as sharp. The agony was unbearable; he felt like he was being disemboweled _alive_ by use of daggers, and the facilitators decided to slowly drag the blades across his body and stab him just for fun.

Jesse opened his mouth and screamed, though all that came out were bubbles. He listlessly watched the bubbles travel up, trapping his scream so that no one could ever hear. No one would _ever_ hear him scream as he went under.

Just as Jesse's vision blacked out, he felt a jerk on the board, and the next seconds passed by in a blur.

* * *

Jesse choked, spitting out water and desperately gasping in air. His chest heaved as he inhaled, exhaled, and repeated the process. His muscles trembled, the ghostly feel of the daggers slicing into them still fresh.

Jesse raised his head wearily, locking his eyes with Hadrian's.

Hadrian patted the chamber of water. "Did you like that?" he taunted. "Water that's only 33.8 degrees fahrenheit. _Just_ above the freezing point."

Jesse continued to collect himself, although in the back of his mind he reasoned, _Oh. _That's _why I felt like daggers were stabbing me._

The white-haired man gave a disapproving tsk. "Do you see what will happen if you resist me, sport?" He sneered. "Face it, bucko, you will _never_ stand a chance against me. So why don't you make this easier on yourself by _telling_ me?"

_**Do you see what he's capable of?**_ the other voice emphasized. _**Your friends will **_**never** _**stand a chance against his torture! If he could take **_**you**_**, an experienced Warlord out, what chance do **_**they** _**have of surviving?**_

_**If you just **_**tell** _**him, they wouldn't have to go through what you just did.**_

Jesse felt his resolve begin to cave.

_Don't give in!_ the other voice pleaded. _If you tell Hadrian, he might use it to do unspeakable horrors! Besides, he _will _continue to torture you, Petra, and Lukas to death._

What was more important, Jesse wondered. To save his friends, at the cost of the world, or to save the world, potentially at the cost of his friends?

_How_ could he choose? How could he give in, knowing that he might've doomed the world with an even gloomier future? And how could he resist, knowing that his friends will be subject to the same, if not even worse, pain he had just experienced?

But. . . the second voice _was_ correct: even _if_ he revealed the information, Jesse knew enough about Hadrian to know: no matter what, Hadrian would _never_ hold up his end of the bargain, even if Jesse cooperates.

As Jesse braced himself for another dip in the water, only one thought came to mind:

He hoped he did the right thing.

* * *

**A/N Annnnd how about that? Jesse and his friends got themselves into... QUITE the pickle.**

**Okay, so I have something important to announce that has to do with the radio silence you've experienced from the last update to this:**

**Recently, I've decided to delve into voice acting (VA) as a side hobby, and so I've been auditioning for different projects that intrigue me. And I actually managed to land myself with two roles for the same project! Yayyy!**

**The thing is, though, the owner of the project never really developed much of a storyline, so I basically took up writing a script for him so that he doesn't end up making up the story on the spot, and it's more comprehensive that way.**

**So, I probably could've updated earlier, had I not been working on the script, which was my primary focus at the time.**

**I'm telling you all this now so that if you see me disappear for a long while, I'm either busy with some other stuff, OR I'm helping the owner develop subsequent scripts (because it's a miniseries).**

**Either that, or I'm lazy :P**

**So if you see me disappear for months on end, DON'T panic, I'm just busying myself with some of the work that I have to do. And if I disappear for a year or longer, well. . . a review telling me to get back to work won't hurt at all.**

**I thank you for sticking by and reading this story, and I hope to see your reviews when I update again!**


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